Collide
by supercommpromises
Summary: 26 year-old Mike Wheeler has a simple life teaching science at Hawkins Middle School. But a chance encounter at a friend's bachelor party at a bar introduces him to Eleven Brenner. A one night stand leads to something more, but she has a dark secret holding her back. Can he help her break free? (meet-cute, one night stand, ANGST, drama, DARK, trigger warnings within, smutty)
1. Chapter 1

The top of the bar was sticky and the nightclub had filled up so people kept jostling her in her seat when they came up to order. With a scowl she scooted further down the bar, ending up in the corner where it was much less busy. She didn't even want to be here, but her "friends" had dragged her out again, promising not to abandon her and that she would have fun.

She wasn't. The dance floor was packed full of guys with grabby hands and bad breath, who were currently surrounding her roommate and the rest of their friends. Eleven rolled her eyes and turned back to her gin and tonic, taking a sip and wishing the alcohol would magically transport her back to her apartment. She had to work tomorrow evening anyways, some big event she needed to be present at. At least it made good money.

Enough money to pay for this drink, at least, and her overpriced apartment. And whatever else her mid-twenties life crisis might convince her to buy. She sighed, eyes still closed.

"That good of a drink?"

A random blonde guy was next to her and she immediately frowned at him as he looked her up and down hungrily.

"Could I buy you another?" he asked licking his lips and she didn't bother wiping the look of disgust from her face.

"No. I'm good."

She turned back to the bar, wondering if he was going to try and make her accept it anyways. Precious few men actually took her refusal for an answer, some getting pissed and calling her a bitch, others trying to grab her, some convinced they could get her to say yes. Once guy had even bribed her, casually setting his open bank app next to her so she could see the six figure number. She'd told him to be more careful or his account might get hacked.

Every muscle was tense and when a finger tapped her shoulder. She whipped around, hackles raised and the guy behind her took a step back, looking alarmed. He was a different one, taller and pale with a mop of ebony hair that fell into his dark chocolate eyes. She relaxed a bit.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, yeah, that guy you were just talking to," he held up her purse which she realized was somehow no longer attached to her body, "kind of tried to steal your bag. I told the bouncer though, he got thrown out. Here." He offered it to her and she took it gingerly.

"Oh, wow, um… thanks."

She didn't really know what to say, usually she ended up cussing guys out or siccing the bartender on them, but this guy… was actually being nice? He licked his lips awkwardly and then held out his hand.

"I'm Mike, um, sorry if I'm bothering you…"

"No, it's okay. I'm Eleven, um, it's a nickname," she quickly explained at his look of confusion, shaking his hand quickly and then resting it back into her lap. "Thanks though, really, for getting my bag back."

"It's nothing I've kind been noticing you all night—" she tensed again but he didn't notice, finishing his sentence, "—since you're the only who looks as sick of this place as I feel."

That was different. Most people assumed she was there willingly and having a great time. She felt curious, blinking back at him before nodding cautiously.

"Why are you here then?"

"Um, one of my buddies is getting married, we came from Hawkins to get trashed for his bachelor party but… it's not really my thing," he shrugged and then nodded to a group of guys further down the counter taking a round of shots. "We're staying here for the night but I'm kind of considering going home after they pass out."

"My friends brought me too," she sighed, "but they always seem to have more fun than me."

She grabbed her drink and slurped the last of it down. It was her second and she felt the alcohol little, enough that she knew not to drive but not so much that she was afraid she'd do something stupid. He noticed her empty glass.

"Did you want another one? We have open tab. My friend Lucas said he would pay for booze the night and I'm not really drinking so…"

"Oh… no it's okay. I shouldn't anyways, I'm a little drunk already."

There was a flash of disappointment in his eyes and she readied herself for him to get angry or whiny or pouty. But he didn't, just bobbing his head.

"Okay, um, well…" his leg was jiggling up and down, "nice to meet you, Eleven. I hope your night gets better."

He turned to go and she found herself reaching out, grabbing his elbow. He turned back to her, eyebrows peaked into a question. His face so pale that his lips almost looked red in the dim light and she wondered what they tasted like. _Fuck, he's really cute._

"Wait, Mike…" the last gulp of alcohol was definitely fuzzing her brain, "I want to get french fries."

He blinked. "You want… fries?"

"Yeah. I'm hungry. But I shouldn't go wandering out alone, there's creeps…" she trailed off, letting him put together the pieces. He wasn't a creep to her. She wanted french fries. They were both bored of the night club.

"Isn't there a Wendy's down the street?" he asked as a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Her heart sped up and she nodded.

"Walk with me?"

"Only so the creeps don't get you."

She didn't understand why she trusted him, but she did. Something about his eyes. They were dark, almost black, but lit up from behind with a strange sort of a warmth that made her stomach burn. Her lower half was burning too, but she tried to ignore it.

Grabbing his hand she jumped down from her barstool and led him out, through the dance floor where people were packed together, writhing to the music. The bass was thumping, she could feel it in her chest, echoing her heart beat. The music was something upbeat and dance-y, with a melody that was catchy and almost made her want to stop and give in to the rhythm. Whoever was singing was killing it, his vocals filling the air around them.

" _You are the piece that I can't replace  
A star shot from outer space  
And as the lights dance around your face  
Not gonna stop 'til the break of day_

 _Tonight is the night we dance in the lights  
Won't stop 'til the sun comes out  
It's just you and I, we're sparks in the night  
Won't stop 'til we're burning bright_

 _When we collide."_

They finally made it outside and El paused to take a breath, still holding Mike's hand. He seemed unsure of what to make of the situation, the pretty young women attached to him was definitely making something in him stir, but she was also inebriated. He wouldn't take advantage of that.

She was tottering in her heels and he winced sympathetically.

"Why do you women wear heels when you know they hurt?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because they look good, they make our legs look better," she huffed as she struggled, wincing at each footstep.

"Your legs look fine to me…" he gulped at his slip, "um, I mean, women in general, not just your legs—Uh, not that you don't have nice legs, I just meant—"

"Mike?"

"Yeah?" he gulped, sure he'd just blown it and she was going to tell him to take a hike.

"Can I have a piggyback ride?"

He stopped walking, surprised and she turned to look at him. Her face was pleading, the big, brown doe eyes that had almost frozen in him in his tracks earlier full of hope. _Does she really want me to?_

"I mean… if you really want."

"Please, my feet are going to fall off. I'll buy you french fries too."

He grinned. "Well, I can't say no to that…"

He turned around and crouched down and she hopped onto his back, wrapping her small arms around his neck and pulling herself up. Her legs squeezed around his waist and he looped his arms under knees, making sure she wouldn't slide down. He was actually really good at giving piggyback rides, his little sister had treated him her personal donkey growing up, so he wasn't too fazed by it. However he was definitely a little distracted by the feel of her firm breasts squishing up against his back. The dress she was wearing had ridden up her legs and he tried not to focus on the feel of her body pressed against his, her smooth skin under his hands. He gulped.

"So Mike—what's your last name?"

"Wheeler," he said gamely.

"So Mike Wheeler, I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck is a Hawkins?"

He almost busted out laughing, settling for a soft chuckle instead.

"It's my hometown, further out west, about an hour and a half drive from here."

"How big is it?"

"Umm… I think we hit an even hundred thousand a few years back. It's been growing but it's still pretty small."

"Sounds terrible. What do you do there?"

"Uhhh, I teach seventh grade science class, but I also write."

"Write what?"

He swallowed, hoping she wouldn't think he was lame. "Um, like young adult fantasy action novels? Or… I'm working on some. I don't have anything published but…"

"An author who teaches kids. That's kind of cool," she admitted.

Her warm breath on his ear was making his shiver and he tried to focus on the Wendy's sign up ahead instead of the way her lips kept brushing his neck and the smell of her perfume, something soft and florally, that now surrounded him.

"So El—" he started to say but she cut him off.

"What'd you call me?"

He blanched. He'd given her a nickname without even thinking about it.

"Um, El? Like short for Eleven? Sorry, that's probably crossing a line—"

"No, I…. I like it," she murmured.

"Oh, um, cool," he tried to change the subject, hoping she couldn't feel how hard his heart was beating. "So what do you do?"

"I work for my dad, well, adopted dad. I don't like to consider him my dad cause he's kind of a fucking asshole."

"Why do you work for him then?"

"Because I'm poor as fuck. And he pays really well, I'm his assistant."

"What does he do?"

"Everything," she sighed, "business, entrepreneuring, producing… it's a fucking mess."

"What do you _want_ to do?"

"I don't know. That's the problem."

They'd finally reached the Wendy's and he carefully set her down. His back felt cold without her but he tried not think about it, reaching for the door and opening it for her. The place was almost deserted, other than some drunk college students in one corner and he followed her to counter.

"Two large fries, extra salty," she told the tired looking employee. "Oh… and a frosty."

She pulled her wallet out and paid, then turned and leaned against the counter as she waited for them get the order done. The lighting in her was a lot brighter than that shitty club and Mike blinked as he took her in. She'd looked great sitting at the bar, legs crossed, looking bored as fuck. He'd tried not stare, but couldn't help glancing back now and then to see if she was still there. Now in the light she saw that her brown eyes had sparks of green around the iris, her lips pinker, her hair more of a dusky brown than dark chocolate. He gulped.

"Um, thanks for the food."

"Thanks for the ride," she snickered, tilting her head and looking up at him. "You're really fucking tall."

"Thank… you…?"

"How tall are you exactly?"

"Um, 6'3… why do girls always ask that? Is there some secret magic number? I feel like being the damn giraffe in the room is enough for everyone to realize that yes, _I am tall_."

"Oh, I dunno, I was just curious," she shrugged, unbothered by his small rant. She was too drunk to care and when the food arrived she almost squealed with excitement. "Yes, I'm soooo hungry."

They picked a random table and he watched her dig into the food, dipping her fries into her frosty and then sighing happily as she chewed. She moaned and he glanced around the empty eating establishment, hoping no one had heard.

"Easy on the sex noises," he teased, "are the fries really that good?"

She looked shocked. "I'm not… _sex_ noises?"

"Yeah, you're… moaning."

"I am?"

She looked around and then leaned forward, whispering.

"Did anyone hear?"

"Um, no… I think you're good."

She grabbed another fry, dipping it into the chocolate shake and then slowly put it into her mouth, sucking her finger to get the salt off and then _moaned_ , loud enough that the drunk kids in the corner looked over. Mike turned red.

"Oh my god, El, don't do that!"

He was absolutely scarlet and she giggled.

"But you're cute when you're embarrassed," she protested.

"Okay, why don't you eat some more fries like a normal person, and maybe then I'll let you embarrass me, okay?"

"Ohhhkaaayy," she sang, grabbing more fries.

It was quiet while she ate and he joined her, not terribly hungry but not wanting to be rude. She ended up eating most of both their fries. They just talked, for almost an hour. He told her about his friend, Will, who was getting married to this guy he'd met in college, how they were soulmates and how happy he was for them. El talked about her roommate, Max, who was a personal trainer at swanky rich-person gym, who she'd known since college. They talked about recent events, music, politics, his job as a science teacher, her job and some of the celebrities she'd met, and everything in between.

El felt herself sobering, wishing she'd sobered sooner but figuring it was better late than never. Talking to him was… nice. More than nice. He listened to her and told funny stories that made her laugh. And his eyes… they were so warm. She wanted to curl up in them forever. Something about him made her cross her legs and squeeze them together, trying to ignore the burning between them.

"—after that he wouldn't come over for a week, he was convinced I'd hide another clown doll somewhere. Greatest prank I've pulled _ever_."

"Mike," she said seriously and he straightened a bit. "Would you mind walking me to my apartment?"

"Um, sure, where is it?"

She pointed out the window, towards one of the skyscrapers across the street. It was a posh apartment, her dad had found it for her and helped get the lease lowered so she and Max could afford it. It was close enough that she didn't _need_ him to walk her there, but it was a test, to see if he would take the bait.

He followed her gaze towards the building, then looked back at her, catching her meaning. If he walked her over he might not go home that night. She was staring at him from across the table, chin resting in her hand, eyes half-lidded and curious. Her shoulder-length hair curled prettily around her face and the pink dress she was wearing had v-neck, that dipped low enough to show off the curve of a breast.

He licked his lips and felt himself nodding.

"Yeah, sounds good to me."


	2. Chapter 2

The door to the apartment slammed shut and El turned to Mike, reaching up and pulling him down into a fierce kiss. He reciprocated, gathering her into his arms almost frantically, like he couldn't believe what was happening and he had to make sure she was real. They both slammed into the door as he pushed her back, reaching down to pull her waist up to his. She got the hint and wrapped her legs around his waist as he hoisted her up, pressing his hips against hers.

Her dress was riding up, the soft material bunching around her waist, and he kissed her, so passionately it almost took her breath away. She ran her tongue across his lip playfully and he pushed her against the door harder, trying to get closer. Pulling back she gasped for air. Her arms were around his neck as she clung to him, and he looked at her, eyes dark and full of wanting.

"Where's your bedroom?" he whispered between pants and she made the move to get down and show him but he didn't let her go, keeping her pressed to him. "Just... which one is it?"

He started walking towards the hallway, still holding her, and she pointed to the second door, a bit speechless. No one had ever carried her before. She pressed a kiss to his neck, trailing more kisses up, noticing the freckles that speckled his face for the first time. They were cute.

He pushed the door to her room open and she thanked her lucky stars that she had decided to clean the clothes off the floor for once. The bed was still a bit of a mess, but she supposed that didn't matter now. He walked over to her bed and dropped her onto it, and she landed on her butt, quickly climbing onto her knees and turning her back to him. She swept her hair to the side, showing the zipper on the back of her dress.

His hand rested on her shoulder for a second, before gently brushing the back of her neck and moving down, grabbing the zipper and tugging it gently. It was like unwrapping a present and she heard his breath hitch. She looked over her shoulder at him, noticing how he looked captivated by the sight of her bare skin. Letting the dress fall off of her, she stood and slid it the rest of the way down, sighing as she did so. Her favorite part of wearing dresses was taking them off. She turned to face him wearing nothing but a white lace bra and bare of blue panties. Almost matching.

He looked amazed, one hand tentatively reaching out. She took it and rested it on her stomach, slowly moving it up, letting his fingers brush the lacey underside of her bra. He inhaled sharply.

"You're so… wow," he murmured and she felt herself blushing, feeling strangely shy.

"You should kiss me," she prompted.

He did, pulling her to him and into a deep kiss as his hands found her waist again, moving up and gently squeezing her breasts in his eager hands. She hissed, wanting more, and then reached down and pulled at the button-up he was wearing, trying to undo the tiny buttons and muttering something rather obscene under her breath as she struggled

"Are you always a pottymouth?" he questioned playfully.

"Only when there's something in my way… hah!" She managed to get it undone and quickly slid it off of him, running her hands across the smooth expanse of his chest. How was he so pale?

She stared up into his eyes, hands still resting on his chest. He was looking down at her with some unreadable emotion in his eyes and she felt her heart skip a beat. Feeling oddly shy, she reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down his hips until they dropped onto the floor. His hands were on her again and then he was pushing her down onto the bed, climbing over top of her, between her legs.

His lips traced over her, feather-soft kisses trailing down her neck to her collarbones, making her shiver and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. He was being gentle, and she appreciated it but at the same time…

"You won't break me," she whispered, "I wouldn't be here like this if I thought I couldn't handle it."

"S-Sorry," he stuttered, looking nervous. "You're just so… small."

"Is that bad?" She raised an eyebrow.

"No! No, you're… you're damn near perfect."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. Most guys she'd been with told her she was hot or pretty or smart or whatever it was that they thought she wanted to hear. But Mike… he sounded so sincere, like every word he said he meant with his entire being. Part of her had wanted to this to just be a quick fuck, to get it out of her system, but the way he looked at her made her want to slow a bit.

"Thank you," she blinked.

She trailed her hands up her body as he watched, reaching for her bra straps and sliding them down her shoulders. Arching her back up she reached around the back and unhooked it easily, then slid the whole thing off. He gazed down at her with hazy eyes, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"You can touch me," she encouraged him, "I trust you."

The words tumbled from her lips and she saw his brows quirk up in surprise. It was a bit odd, just how much she trusted the stranger she'd met only a few hours ago, but at the same time she knew she was right. She _could_ trust him, she could relax, let her guard down for even just a moment. She could want him, all of him, and he would give it to her.

He kissed her lips again, almost like a thank you, and then moved down her body, towards her breasts, and she arched her back, offering them up to him. His lips met her skin and she gasped, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. He caressed her, like she was sacred, using his tongue to draw gasps and whimpers from her throat as she clung to him.

She was soaking, utterly aroused by his attentions, and pulled him up to her lips again, kissing him deeply and wrapping her legs around his hips, begging him silently. She didn't want foreplay or dirty talk or anything kinky, she just wanted _him_. Her hand went to his, moving it down, to the edge of her underwear. His eyes asked the question and she nodded, eyebrows furrowing into pleading lines.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he slid his fingers under the lacey fabric and tugged them down, lifting her legs up so he could slide them all the way down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. He stared for a second, utterly mesmerized by her silken lines and she reached for his boxer briefs, biting her lip and giving them an impatient jerk. He obliged, removing them from his body.

She looked down and felt her eyes widen. Shit, he _was_ proportional for his height and she felt a little worried that she might not actually be able to handle it. She bit her lip but reached for him, grasping his large member in her hand squeezing, watching his face. His eyes clamped shut and his mouth opened as he gasped. She smirked, pulling him forward towards her, wanting him to get closer.

"Mike," her voice was a breath.

"Yeah?" He managed to open his eyes.

"Put it in."

She flushed, oddly embarrassed, but her words were like magic and he brought his hips to hers, pressing against her slick folds. He paused.

"Wait, do you have a con—"

"I'm on the pill. And I'm clean." She always made the men she slept with use condoms. STDS were still a thing. But she didn't want one now. Not with him.

"Oh, okay," he seemed surprised but didn't question further.

Instead he slid forward, finally, _finally_ pushing into her, making them both gasp. He moved slowly and she felt grateful, since it allowed her time to adjust to the massive _thing_ that was invading her body. When he was all the way in he exhaled shakily, his head falling onto her shoulder. He felt so good and she wanted him so bad and now he was there, filling her up in every way. Her legs went up around his waist and she arched again, letting out a whimper as he shifted inside of her.

Instinct took over and he started to move his hips, listening to her as she gasped and whimpered, encouraging him without words. One of his hands went up, gently tucking a messy strand of her hair behind her ear and she grabbed his hand with her smaller one, pressing a kiss to his fingertips. He was so damn sweet she couldn't handle it, letting out a moan and moving her hips to meet each thrust. He didn't stop, increasing the speed as she twitched and gasped, her hands digging into his ribs, reading her expressions. Their lips met again and when he pulled back, she couldn't help commenting at his skill. It was always a tossup with a stranger.

"You're," her breath caught in her throat, "really good at this—oh!"

He'd bucked against her, the gentleness replaced by passion, the desire to make her feel good replacing all other rational thoughts. Everything was about _her_ , her feel, her smell, her taste. He grabbed her leg and pushed it up, changing the angle and she jolted, eyes widening in surprise as he hit something that made her clench her teeth. _Holy fuck_.

"M-Mike," she moaned.

His name had never sounded better, and the fire that had been building flashed higher, making his vision white out for a second as he sped up his hips. It felt so amazing, she was exquisite, the woman beneath him who said she trusted him, who was giving him everything as she writhed and moaned, staring up at him with wide eyes, her pretty face furrowed into an expression that almost looked like she would cry at how good it felt.

"El," he grunted, "I'm… I'm going to—"

"Don't stop, I'm close," she promised.

Biting his lip he thrusted faster, moving _with_ her as she threw her head back against the cool, silk sheets, a keening cry ripping from her throat.

"Mike!" She cried out for him as her eyebrows peaked together, gasping.

"El," he breathed her name like a prayer.

They came together, her legs squeezing his waist as he pounded her into the mattress. He couldn't keep his eyes open, the sensation too overwhelming, and after a few more sloppy strokes he pulled out, watching as she convulsed beneath him. She relaxed after a moment, completely boneless, and he carefully crawled off of her and flopped onto his back next to her on the queen bed. She was panting loudly and he realized he was too.

"Wow," he said.

He tentatively scooted closer, unsure of what her reaction would be, but she rolled over to face him, tucking her face into his shoulder. Relaxing, he put an arm around her and then pressed a kiss to her temple as she wrapped her leg around his.

"That was… amazing," he gasped.

She smiled against his skin. "I think that's the best sex I've ever had, honestly."

"Really?!" He tried to play it cool. "Um, I mean, that's… awesome. Same here."

"You do this kind of a thing a lot?" It was a teasing question but he took it seriously.

"No, actually, that was my first time."

She almost jumped off the bed, sitting upright and looking down at him.

" _What?_ You're a _virgin_?"

He grinned. "Well… not anymore, right?"

"There's no way that was your first time… it was too _good_."

"Well, you made it easy."

Part of her was suddenly afraid.

"Shit, you weren't like… saving it for marriage or something, right? I wasn't planning on corrupting anyone today…" she worried, brow furrowed.

"No, not marriage. Just someone who seemed… right." He bit his lip.

"And that was me? I made you carry me to Wendy's to get drunk-fries," she tried to convince him he was wrong but he just chuckled.

"Yeah that was cute." His face sobered. "But you're not going to get freaked out if I ask for your number, right? I mean… I'd kind of like to see you again."

Part of her _was_ afraid. This was supposed to be a one night stand, a good time and then a good bye. But she couldn't admit that she wouldn't do this again. That she might want to see him again and maybe talk over coffee or drinks. _But he lives an hour and a half away_ … she whispered to herself, _there's no way he'll want to keep something up between the two of you when there's distance. And look at him, he's kind, a gentleman. He won't want someone like you._

It still wouldn't hurt to give him her number, though, right?

"Can I give it to you in the morning? I'm tired now…" she teased, feeling him relax again underneath her cheek.

"Yeah, sure. I'm assuming I'm allowed to stay the night?"

"Well you're a damn comfy pillow so I don't think you really have a choice."

She sat up enough to grab her comforter from where it lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. The sweat on her skin was starting to cool and she shivered, pulling the fabric over their naked bodies. He grabbed her again and tucked her back into his side, letting out a content sigh, like it was enough that she was just there.

There was strange anxiety creeping up into her ribcage, one she had been hoping wouldn't come back, not right now, but she chose to ignore it, closing her eyes and surrendering to the peace of the moment. His heartbeat and quiet breathing lulled her and rather suddenly, she fell asleep.

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _Hello everyone, I was getting some requests for longer stories as well as someone who asked for a meet-as-strangers-and-fall-in-love kind of a story so I wrote this. I'm estimating 5-7 chapters if anyone is interested. I won't lie, reviews motivate me a lot. The more reviews I get the sooner I want to update. I have the next chapter for this one written out but I have to edit it. I'm still taking requests_** ** _—_** ** _I write them down_** ** _—_** ** _so feel free to ask for those too. Or PM me, I don't bite._**


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN:**_

 ** _Originally I had planned on this being kind of a fun little story, but last night I had an idea. This story is going to take kind of a dark turn, lots of angst and drama, but if you stick around I'll try and make it worth your while._**

* * *

"Rise and shine, Elle-Belle, it's a beautiful—Oh my god!"

Max's voice scared her and she shot upright and stared at her roommate with groggy eyes. She felt unusually naked and grabbed the comforter to cover chest, realizing she was in fact not wearing her usual pajama top. There was a low groan next to her and she looked down to see what it was.

There was a man in her bed.

She woke up pretty quickly, but the memories of the night before came back and she relaxed. Right. It was just Mike.

Her roommate looked embarrassed, standing in the doorway with her mouth hanging open. She quickly shut it and tried to explain.

"Sorry! I made you breakfast but—"

"Breakfast?"

Mike sat up next to El and looked around sleepily, covering a yawn. Then he realized where he was and who he was with and he turned bright red. Definitely not the hotel room. Definitely not his three male friends.

"This isn't… oh. Um, good morning. Are you Max?" He was clearly embarrassed but tried to hide it by being civil. The redhead in the doorway blinked in surprise.

"Um, yeah… and you are?"

"This is Mike. He's my… friend," El blurted.

She didn't notice the wounded look that filled his eyes for a second, too focused on getting her friend out of the room. There would be a thorough explanation later, but right now she wanted her roommate to stop ogling her and the guy who was currently naked in her bed.

"We'll eat your breakfast if you leave us alone, how's that?"

"Fair enough." Max knew when she wasn't wanted.

She backed up and shut the door and El immediately thunked back onto her bed, stifling a groan. It had been over a year since she'd invited a man back to their place and she knew Max wouldn't leave her alone until she'd spilled every sordid detail about the encounter. Which had admittedly been pretty good. She looked up at Mike, who was still trying to process everything, and felt herself smile appreciatively.

"Mike."

He turned to her, eyebrows quirked up. _Oh, wow_. She had been kind of afraid she'd been drunk enough to mistake him as being attractive, but he definitely was. He had a strong jawline and cheekbones and the most adorable smattering of freckles. Her heart did that fluttery thing again.

"What's up?"

"Um, if you're looking for you underwear they're on my side," she scooted over and leaned down, snagging them off the floor and handing them over. He took them gingerly, reaching down and writhing around under the covers to get them on.

He seemed oddly embarrassed and she remembered this was all new to him, smiling to herself as she casually climbed out of the bed, naked. She walked to her dresser, unbothered, feeling his eyes on her and being slightly pleased that he couldn't look away. Opening the drawer she pulled out a clean pair of lacey black panties and matching bra, stepping into them and then hooking the undergarment around her ribcage. She turned back around to face him as she headed for her closet.

"So…" she prompted, figuring it was time he said something.

"Do you… want me to leave?" He was still sitting in her bed, looking confused, definitely at a loss.

"Do you want to leave? Max said she made breakfast, and she's a personal trainer so her breakfasts are pretty killer…"

His stomach grumbled, audible from across the room and she grinned. He scratched his head sheepishly.

"I guess I'll stay then."

He climbed out of the bed and gathered up his clothes, looking at his wrinkled button-up with a sour expression before sighing and putting it on. His jeans weren't as crumpled and he pulled them up, looking over at her again. She'd put on a pair of plain, dark blue skinny jeans and a pastel ringer tee that said "emotional" across the front. He narrowed his eyes.

"Emotional?"

"Yeah, it was a joke. Max bought it for me. She says I'm an ice queen with no emotions, so this was supposed to be… ironic." She shrugged. "It's super comfortable and it was free so I don't really care."

"An ice queen?"

"Her words, not mine."

They were both standing at the closed door and she set her hand on the knob with a sigh.

"I'm sorry for what you're about to go through, I'll try and fight her off," she apologized and then opened the door without further explanation, breezing down the hallway and towards the kitchen.

Mike followed, suddenly uneasy. He'd felt uneasy all morning, like he was out of place in the posh apartment with the outrageously attractive woman he'd woken up next to. She had silk sheets. And skyline views. He was a nerdy science teacher from a tiny town. What was he doing here?

He'd felt confident last night, her dorky teasing and expansive knowledge had made it so easy to feel comfortable. Everything about her just felt… right. So he'd gone for it, following the tug on his heart that told him to pull her close, to let go and let whatever happened between them happen. So he had, but now he wasn't sure…

There was a definite smell of pancakes and eggs and his stomach grumbled again. So far she hadn't kicked him out or acted ashamed, so maybe this wouldn't be so bad?"

"How do you like your eggs, _Mike_?"

He looked over at the redhead in front of the of stove. She was in yoga pants and tank top, a fresh pair of Nikes laced to her feet. He got the impression she could easily beat the shit out of him if she so wished and he gulped.

"S-Scrambled is fine," he took a seat at the breakfast bar, glancing over at El, who was digging through the fridge, pulling out several pitchers.

"What kind of juice? Max is a juicer, so we have…" she squinted at them, "orange, peach-mango, cranberry and… Max what is this?"

Her roommate didn't even look up from the stove. "Guava."

"Okay… and guava juice."

"Orange is fine… do you guys need any help?"

He felt like he should be doing something, but he also knew he wasn't exactly good at cooking.

"Nah, we got it. You don't mind whole grain pancakes, do you?" El asked as she pulled some plates out of the cupboard.

"If someone is making me pancakes, I literally don't care what kind."

He grinned at her and she looked away, biting her lip and feeling stupidly shy. Why was his smile so great? Why did make her want to giggle like a damn school girl? She told herself to stop it, that it was stupid to get all googly-eyed over some random guy.

"So what do you do, _Mike_?" Max's voice was heavy and El rolled her eyes as the two bustled around each other in the kitchen. Mike watched them interact, fascinated

"Tone down the intimidation, Max. He's not a usual douchebag, he's a seventh grade teacher for Christ's sake."

"I had a teacher in middle school who was a total d-bag," she retorted.

"Yeah, but he's not. He kept some asshole from stealing my bag after I turned down his drink _and_ he walked me to Wendy's so I could get my drunk-fries."

"Eleven, do not tell me you had Wendy's last night…"

They started bickering, Max trying to convince El of the evils of fast food as the shorter woman rolled her eyes, reaching over to snag a piece of fruit from a bowl on the counter. There was suddenly a plate in front of him full of steaming scrambled eggs, brown pancakes, and cut up melon. He felt his mouth watering but paused.

"Um," they stopped arguing and looked at him. "Do you guys have syrup?"

El sighed. "It's super organic, all-natural, fair-trade but… yeah."

Max was closer to the fridge and grabbed it for him. They all settled at the counter and he grabbed the bottle of syrup, deftly pouring it over his eggs and pancakes. El raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Max of course had to comment.

"Syrup? On eggs? Really?"

"Have you tried it?" He shot back.

"Well… no, but—"

"Then I don't think you can judge me. Unless you try it."

She gave him a look of respect and nodded.

"That's fair… enjoy your eggs."

"They're amazing, by the way. Thanks for breakfast," he said and she blinked gratefully.

"Thanks for not letting my best friend get hit on by creeps."

"Hey so… what exactly constitutes a guy as a 'creep'?" He took another bite of eggs. "I'm not saying that guys aren't creeps or whatever, I'm just curious what the definition is."

El thoughtfully chew her pancake, gazing into the space as she tried to think up an answer.

"Usually… a guy who doesn't accept no as answer. Or the ones who… they come and they only talk to your boobs."

Mike choked. "That happens?"

"More often than you'd think," she snorted. "And it's… I dunno, you can just tell based on a guy acts around you or to you. Whether or not you can trust him or if he gives you the creeps." She bit her lip and looked down.

Mike remembered what she'd said last night as she'd placed his hands on her bare torso, eyes wide and honest. _I trust you_. Clearly she was remembering it too, but the emotion troubling her eyes wasn't one he knew. He felt a spike of insecurity. Was she regretting that moment?

"Oh, well, um, I'm sorry so many guys are creeps."

Max shrugged. "I usually just beat them up and they leave me alone. Ellie is too nice, usually, and if you're nice at all they try and stick their hands down your shirt like a smile suddenly means 'yes please take me'." She rolled her eyes. "I've broken at least two noses by now. The nice things is bouncers are usually on your side. They don't like creeps either."

"My friend works security for shows sometimes, he's a big guy," Mike relaxed a bit. Talking about his friends was always easier. "He lives here, works at some fancy computer company, but he does it on the side. Gets to see shows for free."

He startled rather suddenly at the thought of Dustin.

"Oh, shit, they're probably wondering where I am…" He reached for his phone which was still in his pocket. It was dead. "Um, do you guys have a charger I could borrow? Lucas is probably pissed…"

"There's one in my room, on the nightstand," El told him and he almost bolted from the kitchen, ignoring Max murmuring something to her roommate.

He at least knew where her room was and made a bee-line for the nightstand, where a cord was sitting. Plugging his phone in, he sat on the bed and waiting for it to get enough power to turn on. He'd meant to send one of them a text, a quick "hey I'm going over to this super hot chick's apartment so don't wait up for me" but he'd been kind of… busy.

Looking around the room he noticed something. The dresser and nightstand were… bare. She had a bed and furniture, but it was weirdly empty, like she had nothing personal to display. He looked over and realized there was a single photostrip of her and Max taped to the mirror, but other than that…

 _Who is this girl?_

He realized he didn't know her last name and felt strangely empty. He wanted to know her, who she was, her favorite foods and colors, what made her smile and what made her cry. Society said one night stands were meant to be just that but… he wanted more.

His phone buzzed as it turned on and he looked back down, staring at the little white apple until his lock screen appeared. He typed in his code with a sigh.

Seventeen missed calls.

Twenty-two unread messages.

Eight voicemails.

He winced. Most of them were from Lucas, all caps and exclamation points, but a few from Dustin as well. He didn't bother listening to the voicemails, instead directly calling Dustin, knowing he was less likely to get an earful from him. The line picked up almost instantly.

"Mike?! Dude! Where the hell did you go? Are you dead? Did you get kicked out? Oh man, Lucas is so pissed, he almost called the police last night—"

"Dustin!" His friend never knew when to shut up. "I'm fine, I'm eating breakfast and I'm in one piece so don't tell Lucas—"

"Eating breakfast where? Where did you _go_?"

Mike sighed, knowing what was about to happen and trying to mentally prepare himself.

"Okay… do you remember the girl last night?"

"Which one?"

He rolled his eyes. "The bored one? With the pink dress and brown hair?"

"Hmmm… wasn't she in the corner?"

"Yeah, some dude tried to steal her purse and I told the bouncer—"

"And he kicked you out?"

"No, Dustin, let me finish!" There was silence and he continued. "Anyways, I told the bouncer who kicked the guy out and then I gave her the purse back and she was kind of drunk and asked me to walk her to Wendy's to get fries—"

"You left to get fries with a drunk girl? Was she hot?"

"That's not—well, yeah, but that's not the point—"

"Mike, did you… where are you?" Dustin's voice took on a knowing tone and Mike could almost see him grinning smugly. He groaned.

"I'm at her apartment."

There was loud whoop and a commotion on the other end of the phone. Mike could distantly hear Dustin yelling Lucas and Will's names and then multiple voices conversing before the phone was picked up again.

"Mike?"

It was Lucas and he grimaced.

"Yeah, what's up man?"

"Did you ditch us last night just to get laid?"

"Well, no, not exactly just because of—"

"So you didn't get laid?"

He sighed heavily. "If you're asking if I'm no longer a virgin, the answer is yes."

He had to move the receiver away from his ear as an unholy screech issued out of it. There was more yelling and he set his forehead in his hand and sighed again. He'd kind of figured that this was going to happen, but it didn't make it any less annoying. Someone else grabbed the phone and a kinder voice answered.

"Mike, hey, um, congrats?"

"Oh, god, Will I'm so sorry for abandoning you with them. How much did they make you drink?"

"Honestly?" There was a snicker. "I think I'm still a little drunk. But it's okay, I'm just going to sleep on the drive back and I've been drinking water," his voice lowered, "did you really have sex with a random girl from a bar?"

"Um… yes. But she's really nice and like… I don't know, Will, it just felt right."

A pause.

"I know what you mean. That's how I felt about Adam, when we first met. I mean, we didn't sleep together…"

"I wasn't planning on it honestly, I was just going to get her number but—"

"But it happens," Will smirked, "was it… good?"

"It was…" he searched for a word. "It was amazing I can't even… like I don't even know how to explain—"

"You don't have to, it's okay. I get it… I'm glad you're happy."

"I'm glad _you're_ happy, Will. Man, you're getting married tomorrow."

Mike remembered he would have to leave and go back to Hawkins and a part of him shrunk. It's not like he expected to be able to stay, but leaving Indianapolis meant not being near El and more than anything he just wanted to be near her. He bit his lip.

 _I can't get so attached, this probably doesn't mean anything to her… but she said she trusted me. What does that even mean?_

"Yeah, we want to leave around five tonight… are you going to make it back before then?"

"Um, yeah, I don't… I don't really think I'm going to be hanging around. I'm not sure, I mean, I don't really know… what… to do… in this sort of situation." He was nervously jiggling his leg up and down and tried to calm himself. "But I'll text you or Dustin or Lucas when I know. I'm not too far from you guys."

"Well that's good. Lucas and Dustin are… exchanging money? Jeez, I think they were betting on your virginity."

Mike wished he was surprised.

"That sounds like them...anyways, I'll tell you what's up when I know."

"Sounds good. See you later, Mike."

"Bye, Will."

He hung up and set his phone on the nightstand, figuring he'd let it charge a bit longer while he finished breakfast. Then he would probably leave… right? His complete lack of etiquette in this situation made his palms sweat, but he tried to be cool and just breathe.

On his way back out he literally ran into Max, who was heading for the bathroom.

"Oh, sorry—"

"Mike," she grabbed his shoulders and stared into his face and tensed, unsure of what she was doing. She spoke quietly, like she didn't want to be overheard. "Listen to me very carefully."

"Um, okay."

" _Don't fuck this up_." Her face was serious. "Eleven hasn't brought home a guy in like… a year and a half. And she's all relaxed around you… I don't even know who you are but I'm telling you, don't let go, okay? She needs someone… she needs someone who doesn't let go."

He blinked, a bit stunned and totally unsure of how to reply. Then he remembered her bare room, no memories or keepsakes.

"Is that why her room is so empty?" his voice was a whisper and she nodded.

"Her adopted dad… he's shit, he manipulates her into working for him so he has control over her and keeps her near him. It's sick, honestly, he makes her think she's not worth anything and I… I'm tired of watching it happen. But you're different. I don't know why."

"Um, thank you?"

She scowled. "Don't fuck it up, okay? I want my friend to be happy and you're the only chance she has right now."

With that she marched past him to the bathroom and firmly shut the door behind her. He blinked, a bit confused, but walked back to the kitchen, feeling dazed. El was frowning down at her phone, reading an email and typing back a reply. She set it down when he reappeared, looking anxious, but he didn't notice, still too dazed by Max's confrontation in the hallway.

 _What the fuck just happened?_

"Was your friend really mad?" El asked.

"Oh, Lucas? A little bit, yeah, but after I told them where I was they got… less mad. He was just upset I didn't tell him where I went last night, he was worried. I meant to text him but I kind of… forgot," he smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sure they understood," she shrugged.

"Yeah, I think so…"

He looked at her from the side of her eyes and noticed she looked… emptier. Like she'd been so vibrant and something had wiped it out of her. He tried to finish his food, the pancakes sticking to his throat when he swallowed. She spoke and it surprised him.

"Hey, Mike?"

"Yah?" His mouth was full of food.

"How old are you?" She looked curious and he swallowed so he could answer.

"Twenty-six. My birthday is in February," he shifted in his chair, "what about you?"

"I'm twenty-four, but my birthday is in two months."

"June?"

"Yep."

Mike didn't know what to say. He was kind of awkward sometimes, and now was definitely one of those times. El grabbed her dirty plate and walked over to the sink, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher. She started cleaning up the other dishes and he shoved the last bite into his mouth, jumping up.

"Here, I can help," he moved to rinse his plate.

"Don't you have to get back your friends? It's almost ten… I'm sure you guys have to leave soon," the tone of her voice made him freeze and he tried not to let himself stiffen up. "I can call a cab for you, if you want…"

"Um, no, it's okay, our hotel is a just a few blocks. It'll be quicker just to walk." He licked his lips nervously, deciding to just go for it. "Would you mind walking back with me? We could grab some coffee, I owe you after those fries…"

It was still and he felt his heart pounding.

"I…" her voice was quiet, "I don't know if that's the best idea."

His heart dropped out of his chest. _Shit, that was too much… but she seemed okay earlier, what changed?_ He was trying to understand what had shifted, why the playful friendliness was gone. Their night together had been… flawless. It couldn't be that. He remembered Max's words in the hallway.

" _Don't let go, okay? She needs someone who doesn't let go."_

It gave him the courage to speak his mind. He turned to face her, his face a question mark.

"Okay… can I ask why?"

"You're…" She wouldn't look at him, still staring into the cupboard. Her shoulders were tense. "It was just one night, Mike… I'm sorry, but that's all it was."

"Then why did you let it seem like it was something more? Why didn't you kick me out last night? Or this morning?" He felt his chest tighten, like he couldn't breathe. "Why did you say you trusted me?"

She finally turned around and her expression was tight, her mouth pinched into a frown.

"I was just saying stuff in the moment… I'm sorry if it hurt you but…" she crossed her arms, like she was trying to protect herself, "we can't _be_ anything. I didn't mean to make it seem… I'm sorry. Really."

She blinked and moved across the kitchen, heading for her bedroom, like she wanted to escape his stare but he followed her. His phone was still in her room.

"Look, El, I—"

"My name isn't El. It's Jane," she whipped around to look at him, frowning. "Why are you following me?

"I left my phone on your charger," he explained, feeling strangely calm.

"Oh… fine."

She was mad now, he could tell, and he didn't know how he was supposed to come back from that. He grabbed his phone, feeling her eyes on him as he double checked for messages. There weren't any new ones, of course, and he straightened back up.

"Do you have your stuff?"

"Yeah… but, um, last night you said you'd give me your number," he bit his lip, knowing she might get angry at him for not giving up.

 _Don't let go_ , he remembered.

She stared at him, disbelief etching her features. With a huff she closed the space between them, swiping the phone out of his hand and punching in some numbers. When she handed it back he looked down at the screen. It was her number, but the contact was named "Do not call ever" and he tried to figure out what it meant.

"If you want to text me sometime, I can't promise I'll reply," she almost softened and he felt flabbergasted at her sudden mood change. "I definitely won't answer a call so… don't even try."

"I… won't call."

"Good."

She pushed past him and he once again followed, figuring she was showing him to the door. He was right and he tried to fight the sinking feeling in his stomach as she opened it. There was a conflict raging across her face, like she wasn't sure what she should be feeling.

 _Don't let go._

It was stupid, it would probably get him slapped, but the words were ringing in his mind and he knew it was his last chance to try and convince her that they were worth something. Crossing the polished, wooden floor, he pulled her to him and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. She was stiff in his arms but then something softened and she kissed him back.

It was brief and the second she pulled away, he let go. Her face was serious and she couldn't look him in the eye, but he felt like there was some sort of battle and he'd won it. She wouldn't forget about him anytime soon, at least.

"Um, you should go," she mumbled, looking confused.

"Thanks for the… the everything," he said simply as he walked through the doorway. "I really did have a good time."

She stared at him for a second, closing the door slowly until all that was visible was her face. It was still serious, but she looked thoughtful too. He cleared his throat.

"Bye, El."

"Goodbye, Mike Wheeler."

The door shut and he heard a strange thunk, but he didn't think about it. He could only stare at the black paint, and the number in the middle, feeling like his heart was going to race out of his chest. She didn't want him… but she'd kissed him back. He couldn't call her… but he could text her? He was confused, and if it hadn't been for Max's quick explanation he would have assumed she was gone forever. That he would never see her again.

" _He makes her think she's not worth anything. But you're different."_

He made himself walk away, down the hallway towards the elevator. But his chest felt hollow, like he'd left his heart behind in front of the door. The elevator doors opened with a ding and he dragged himself in, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking at her contact number again. It would be easier to just give up, to be okay with the idea of never seeing her again, but he refused to be okay with that thought. He wasn't ready to give up.

 _Don't let go_.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 ** _I would say next chapter will be happier, but that would be a lie. Buckle up, kiddos, we're going for a ride. (Please leave reviews. They genuinely make motivate me so much to keep pushing on. I'm definitely a little worried about this new angle so tell me if you like it.)_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN:_**

 ** _I'm just going to apologize ahead of time. Like I said, I didn't intend for this story to take such a drastic turn, but I'll try and make it enjoyable where I can._**

* * *

El's back hit the door the second it closed and she slid down to the floor, cradling her head in her hands as a sob shook her body. Her stomach was in a tight knot of anxiety and she tried to slow her breathing, to make the crying stop. Crying wouldn't help, wouldn't make the sting in her chest lessen.

She didn't want to do it. _Make_ him leave like that. But she couldn't… let him in. Not more than she already had. It was a mistake to think that she could pursue something with him, something more than just sex. But for a few brief moment she'd let herself imagine…

Her phone dinged loudly from where it was still sitting on the counter and she felt her stomach twist again, this time with revulsion. She was being summoned and as much as she wanted to ignore it, to just walk away, she knew she couldn't. After reading the email and understanding the subtext hidden within she knew she had to respond.

Wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, she tried to close the chapter in her mind that was Mike Wheeler. His warm eyes and kind smile, the way he'd held her like she was some hallowed thing, his expression full of understanding. But not even he could understand who she really was, what she had let herself become. She was filth and he was so… good, surely he would find someone else worthy of his affections.

Her phone dinged again and with a heavy sigh she walked over to it and picked it up. Max was still in the shower, so she called the number, knowing he would prefer to talk if she was available.

"Jane."

She flinched. "Hi, Papa."

"I trust you got my email? About the event tonight?"

"Yes, about the senator?" She bit her lip. "Papa… I don't know if—"

"You'll take good care of him, I presume? Take him around the venue, make sure he has drinks, show him to his hotel room… I wouldn't want my friend to be _unhappy_. He's vital to my election this fall."

He'd recently decided to climb the politics ladder, using El as a stepping-stone to his success. But it had been over six months since he'd asked her to do this and she had been hoping that maybe he didn't need her anymore. That he was going to try and do it himself. She started to feel the familiar panic flood her chest but quickly numbed it, stepping into her "business" shoes. She couldn't let him down.

"Y-Yes, Papa. I'll make sure he's happy."

"Good, very good," he purred, "I always know I can count on you, Jane."

"Of course, Papa."

"Wear something red tonight, I was told that's his favorite color. I'll see you at six."

He hung up without saying goodbye and she blinked down at the phone in her hand, at the screen that read, _Call ended: Martin Brenner_.

Max came out of the shower, one towel wrapped around her head and another around her body, giving El a questioning look.

"Where'd Mike go?"

"Um, back to his friends. They freaked out on him a little bit so he decided to walk back," she lied smoothly, knowing her friend would buy it.

"You didn't go with him?"

She blinked. "No… why would I go with him?"

"I dunno, you seemed to like him," Max grabbed a water bottle of of the fridge and took a long drink. "I'm assuming the sex was good?"

"I… yeah, it was. But he's not even from here, Max, I can't… I'm not trying to start something just because he scratched an itch for me," she sounded strained.

"Must've been a good scratch if you let me feed him breakfast. Did you at least give him your number?"

It had been a moment of weakness, she'd felt bad for snapping at him, and in a way… she wanted to give him a breadcrumb. Something to find his way back… if he dared. Most guys didn't and she didn't expect him to either.

"Yeah."

"Good. I liked him."

It was quiet as Max finished her water. She headed for her room but kept talking to El, shouting to be heard. It was a small enough apartment.

"So what are you doing on this beautiful spring Saturday?" she asked.

"I have an event tonight at The Conrad, for… my dad," El called back. "I'll probably be gone all night, so don't wait up for me… hey do you have anything red I can borrow?"

"Of course I do, come and pick something."

El dragged herself into her roommate's room and they dug through the messy closet. Max found a slinky red dress, with a choker and low plunging neckline. It was pretty sexy and El figured she'd have to wear one of her blazers over it to make it business appropriate.

"Have you even worn this?" She turned to Max, eyebrow raised.

"Once, I think. It makes my arms look too big though, you can honestly keep it if you want," she shrugged.

"Your arms _are_ big. You work out for a living."

"That doesn't mean I want to look… disproportional. Just keep the dress. I need to go shopping anyways… did you want to come?"

"No—Actually, yes. I need new heels. Comfortable ones."

"Awesome, I'll be ready in like… ten minutes?"

"Works for me."

El headed back to the bathroom, washing her face and then putting on a little eyeliner and mascara, since she was going out in public. She did need new heels, maybe something navy or a good pair of black pumps… as long as they made her ass look good and were comfortable, she didn't care too much.

Max was ready and they headed to one of the bigger malls with the fancy department stores, full of people willing to dote on them. She helped her friend find some dresses first, giving a thumb's up or down from the outside of the dressing room. They laughed as Max tried to fit her athletic body into a tiny, silver thing that El ended up having to _pull_ off of her.

"This is why I hate dress shopping. Why can't I just wear my leggings and tanks all the time?" Max complained.

"Because you like to go out and they frown upon athletic wear in clubs," she grunted as she finally got the zipper up.

Max took one look at herself and cringed.

"I look like I'm popping out of this one… take it off me."

It took a solid hour and a half before they finally made it to the shoes. El expressed very clearly to the saleswomen that she needed comfort, and after going from ugly but comfy to cute but painful, they finally found a compromise in a pair of shiny, black heels with a T-strap and silver detailing. Definitely sexy.

They stopped for a late lunch, some grill with patio seating so they could enjoy the warm April sunshine. El let Max order for her, digging into the salad and savoring the flavors. Max talked about some of her recent clients, how one man was working off his divorce in the gym and had already lost fifteen pounds and one of her regulars from when she first started was taking a break since she just found out she was pregnant. El enjoyed getting lost in other people's lives, listening to the stories and smiling.

It was after two by the time they got back to the apartment and El figured she should start getting ready, since she'd have to do full makeup and hair and it could take a while. Her bed was still a mess and with a sigh she went over to make it. She tugged the comforter up and almost fell over as she caught a whiff of… what was that? It was spicy, like cologne and freshly-washed sheets.

It was Mike.

Her stomach clenched and she quickly shoved the covers over her bed, tucking everything in and smoothing out the wrinkles. Of course he had to leave his damn smell behind. Of course he couldn't make this easy. She grabbed the pillow he'd slept on and put it to her nose, breathing in his scent again, closing her eyes, remembering how'd pushed her against the door, arms around her waist as he carried to her bed. The way he'd looked at her as she slid her dress off, his hand smooth on her bare stomach—

She dropped the pillow like it had burned her, angrily punching it back into place. Why did he have to be so damn attractive and sweet? She was more angry at herself than him and stormed into the bathroom.

The shower helped, the usual routine putting her back into her calm space. She let herself just stand under the water, trying to wash the night before down the drain. How was she supposed to do her job if all she could think about was some guy she'd slept with? It had been nothing, just a one night stand. She shaved her legs and exfoliated, knowing she would need to glow tonight.

Her blow dryer was loud enough to keep her from thinking, followed by the curling iron. She kept her hair short because it was easier, took less time, but now she wished she had days to get ready instead of mere hours. Anything to keep the night from happening.

She did her makeup dark, smoking out the gray eyeshadow around her hazel-tinted browns, making a thick, black wing with her eyeliner. It was her mask tonight, the pretty face she wore with a smile to charm her prey. Or was she the prey? She grabbed a dark reddish-brown lipstick, applying it with a heavy hand.

The dress fit perfectly and she strapped her new shoes to her feet, grateful for the three inches of cushion hidden in the platform. She grabbed a white blazer with black piping on the edges and then looked in her mirror, the one with photostrip taped to it. Her mouth twitched up into a smile at the silly faces she and Max were making and she felt her heart swell with love for her friend. Then she looked back at herself with a heavy sigh.

Everything about her was dark and alluring, exactly like he'd ordered. Part of her wanted to crawl back into her bed, strip off the makeup and lies and bury her face in the pillow that smelled of Mike… but the bigger part of her knew better. She had to get this done, make him proud, do her job and do it well. It was the only thing she was good at anyways.

She'd failed out of college, barely made it through high school. Most of her time was spent reading books, escaping into other worlds, stories that weren't hers with happy endings and happy people. What was it like to be happy?

Her mind was blank as she sat in the cab. The Conrad was on the other side of downtown and as comfy as her new shoes were, she didn't want to walk. She probably should have eaten before she left—she never really ate at events since Papa said it was unattractive—but her stomach was too twisted and she couldn't get anything down. She was nervous and she didn't understand why… this wasn't the first time she'd done this, not even close. The first time had been three years ago, after some big convention that Papa had been in charge. She'd made sure he'd had raving reviews, his gain her loss.

The event was already bustling when she arrived and the doormen didn't bat an eye at her arrival, they knew her by now. She made her way through the crowd, scanning for the man she knew would be waiting for her. His white hair usually made him easy to spot, but this crowd was comprised of older men and it took her a minute to find him, sitting at a table next to a man who looked even older than he did. Her heart sank. She hated when they were old.

But she said nothing, pasting a smile onto her face and walking over, coming up behind them and resting a hand on her adopted-father's shoulder. He brightened as he turned to her, looking genuinely pleased at her appearance, which was rare. Something inside of her sighed happily. She'd done the right thing.

"Jane, lovely to see you. This the senator, I told him you'd be assisting him during his visit tonight." He turned to the older man who apparently was nameless. "Senator, this is my assistant, Jane."

The senator looked her up and down, eyes hungry and then nodded appreciatively.

"Aren't you a pretty thing," he rumbled, reaching out shake her hand.

"Thank you so much," she replied coyly, playing the part she knew she was supposed.

It was acting, all of it, but she sold it well, sitting next to him and touching his arm, laughing at his jokes, occasionally getting up to grab him another drink. By the time everything started winding down he was drunk enough to forget his principles as she led him up to his room, sliding the key into the slot and opening it for him.

There was a king bed, his suitcase placed on the rack and she walked over to the counter where there we glasses, setting her purse down and filling the cup with water from a pitcher placed there earlier. She heard him coming up behind her, felt his hands on her waist, and she took a long drink, steeling herself for what she knew would come next. Her hand slid into her purse and she grabbed a condom, letting herself be lead to the bed.

She let the ice in then, let it cover her like armor, let herself escape to somewhere else. Sometimes they liked her to moan and pretend like she liked it, but the Senator was drunk enough not to care, rutting into her sloppily, his fetid breath hot on her throat as he grunted noisily. It didn't take him long, his wife probably didn't care much for him anymore, but she was grateful it was over quickly. He lay on top of her, breathing heavily and she tried not to flinch as she pushed him off, sitting up and pulling her skirt back down.

He hadn't even bothered to undress her and she stood, leaving him on the bed with his pants around his ankles, walking back over to her purse and pulling one of the business card out. The older man was passed out when she came back and she sighed, setting her father's business card on the nightstand as reminder to the man for when he woke up. Of who gave him this opportunity. Grabbing her lace panties off of the floor, she shoved them into her purse. She just wanted to get out of there, but she paused at the counter and took another drink of water.

There was a mirror there and she stared at herself, the back of her curly hair sticking up messily, her lipstick smudged. The neckline of her dress was tugged down, showing the edge of her black bra and she blinked at her reflection, hating everything she saw. She didn't want to be this… but it was all she knew. She was worthless, stupid, and couldn't do anything right. But she could do this, seduce men into lifting Papa higher. And he would tell her she'd done a good job, looking proud for even just a _second_. It was enough.

It had to be enough. There wasn't anything else, there wasn't _anybody_ else. Not even Max knew she what she did, she couldn't. No one could know she was a whore.

With a final look she turned, making sure she had all her things, and walked out of the hotel room.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **Sooooo that was my dark plot twist. Please, please, please leave a review and let me know if I should keep going. I'm honestly a bit desperate for feedback at this point.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**AN:**_

 _ **Alright so you all seemed to be okay with my dark plot twist. It made me sad to write, I do love El believe it or not. This chapter is gonna lighten things back up a little bit. Sorry it's on the longer side, it feels like once I get going I just can't stop. This chapter gets smutty, so if you're not about that life, skip the ending.**_

* * *

It had been over a week and Mike was still unsure whether or not he should text her. He kept opening the new message, typing the name in and then staring at the blank screen. What would he even say? _Hey, hi, it's the random guy you took home last week, how's your life? Wanna be my girlfriend?_ He got the feeling that wouldn't go over very well.

But something told him he needed try anyways. Say _something_. She wouldn't have given him her number if she didn't want him to at least try… right?

"Mr. Wheeler?"

He looked up from his desk. He'd been staring off again, looking down at a badly drawn volcano on the assignment in his hands. He scribbled a quick "great work!" on it and then looked up at the student in front of him.

"Yes, Elliot?"

"I think I did the experiment wrong. Our volcano won't go off…"

"Did you put the baking soda in first or the vinegar?" Mike asked, getting up from his desk and heading for his pupil's table.

There was a crowd of boys there, all looking troubled as they stared at the paper mache volcano that sat on the the table in front of them. Mike sighed, unsure how they could screw something so basic up. His first science fair trophy, with his friends, had been for making a volcano. You just pour the vinegar in after the baking soda and it goes off… it never ceased to amaze him what kids could mess up.

"We put the vinegar in first and—"

"That's why, it probably leaked out the bottom. Have you put the baking soda in yet?"

"Yeah," the boys looked forlorn and Mike tried to be encouraging.

"Okay, well… here."

He grabbed the food coloring, dropping in some more red and yellow, then grabbed the cup of vinegar. He handed it to Elliot, making sure there was enough inside.

"Try it again."

They did and Mike wrinkled his nose at the sour smell, but watched with a smile as they started yelling in excitement. Orange colored foam began to flow out of the volcano and the boys let out a cheer. He could see his own friends, age twelve, gathered around a similarly lumpy volcano and looking proudly at their teacher, Mr. Clarke. He was the main reason that Mike had decided to become a teacher. Everyone deserved to have someone like Mr. Clarke in their lives.

"Thanks, Mr. Wheeler!"

"No problem, Elliot."

He went back to his desk and sat down, staring at the empty message on his phone and letting out another sigh.

"Are you talking to your girlfriend?"

The kid's voice made him startle and Mike whipped around, towards the pencil sharpener. One of his favorite students—not that he had favorites—was blinking at him, intelligent eyes assessing his teacher with a grin. Mike let out a heavy breath.

"Um, no, Dylan. Not exactly. She's not… my girlfriend."

"But you want her to be?" Dylan was reading him like a book.

"I guess but… she's not too happy with me. I don't know what to say."

"Get her food."

Mike blinked.

"What?"

"Food. Girls like food. When my girlfriend is mad at me I buy her some chocolate or something and then she's happy again," Dylan shrugged.

"Well, that's a good idea, but she doesn't live around here. She's in Indianapolis."

"Oh… maybe her send her something then? Something funny or nice. Girls like that kind of thing."

Mike shook his head, stifling a laugh. "When did you become such an expert on girls?"

"I dunno, I just listen to what they say and try to do it," Dylan finished sharpening his pencil and started to walk away.

Mike watched, a bit stunned at this student's rather wise advice. He had been worrying so much about what to say… what if he didn't say anything at all? He could just send her something…

Reaching for his phone he did a quick search, picking a picture and then attaching it to the message, no words, just the picture. He bit his lip for a second and then exhaled, hitting send at the same time. His phone made a noise, affirming the text was delivered and he bit his lip. It wouldn't help to sit and stare at it, so he did another around, checking on his students and helping to clean up spilled vinegar and baking soda. He heard his phone vibrate from across the room and stiffened, trying to ignore it and finish helping one of the girls get goo out of her hair.

He almost raced back to his desk, grabbing his phone and checking the message.

" _Cute. Where did you even find that picture?"_

It had been a puppy, surrounded by plates and trays of fries, eyes wide with unimaginable joy. He figured she had to like puppies, who the heck doesn't like puppies? His gamble had paid off and he almost broke out in a sweat he was so relieved. He typed back.

" _Just found it. Reminded me of you, the fry-queen."_

" _Ha. Is that you're going to remember me? The fry-queen?"_

" _Was there something else you would prefer? Fits pretty well."_

The bell ran, signaling the end of the day and he sighed gratefully as the kids shuffled out of the classroom. He knew he shouldn't be texting during class, but half the students did it when they thought he wasn't looking and it was a mostly self-directed activity anyways. It's not like they'd had knives or something. His phone buzzed again.

" _I've been called worse things. I suppose fry-queen is an improvement."_

" _If you ever visit Hawkins there's this place called Benny's burgers that has the BEST fries. He does garlic parmesan and spicy ranch ones too. They're to die for."_

" _And the fry-queen has to try the best fries in Hawkins?"_

" _The fry-queen has to try the best fries everywhere. Especially Hawkins."_

" _I don't think I'll be coming to your little bumpkin town anytime soon, sorry."_

He wasn't surprised. It wasn't like he expected her to come to Hawkins. Who would give up such a glamorous city life for a tiny town? But her responses gave him hope. Before she'd said she would _maybe_ text back, but she'd been texting back quickly. It made his heart speed up as he replied.

" _I won't hold it against you, it's not exactly a tourist destination."_

He paused and bit his lip. What if he went back to Indianapolis? Would she want to meet up again? He just wanted to see her again. He wasn't giving up yet, not after what Max said. His heart kept telling him to keep trying.

' _Actually, I'll be back in town this weekend, my buddy Dustin invited me out since we haven't hung out together in a while. Is there a chance we could meet up for lunch or coffee or something? I do still owe you after the fries."_

Her little typing bubble popped up, then disappeared. Mike bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, but then the bubble reappeared.

" _Mike, I still don't think it's a good idea. I can't give you what you want."_

He sighed, feeling like he wanted to rip his hair out. But he had to try.

" _What do you think I want from you?"_

" _I don't know. More than I can give."_

" _I just want to be friends, El. Can't I buy you food? Just this once?"_

Time seemed to pass impossibly slowly as he stared at the three little dots in the bubble as they merrily bounced. His chest was tight again and he loosened his tie without thinking. His phone vibrated.

" _You really want to be my friend? That's it?"_

He exhaled. He didn't want to lie, but at the same time he felt like saying anything that would get him time with her.

" _That's all I want right now. I promise."_

Another long pause.

" _Okay. Where did you want to go?"_

"Yes!" He jumped to his feet and punched the air, excitedly. A janitor poked his head and gave him a curious look. Mike gave him an embarrassed wave, plopping back into his chair, his face burning. He quickly texted back.

" _You pick, I'm sure you know the best spots."_

" _Sounds good. Let me know when you're in town and I'll text you the address. I have to go now, my dad has another conference tonight."_

Mike furrowed his brow, confused.

" _He needs you for a conference?"_

" _Yeah, I take notes and stuff. Refill everyone's coffee. Make sure no one falls asleep."_

He snorted out a laugh at that.

" _LOL does that really happen?"_

" _Only once. The guy ended up getting fired later."_

" _Sounds riveting. I'm sure you can't wait."_

" _Nah, I'd rather skip it. I kind of hate my job."_

" _Maybe get a new one?"_

" _It's not that easy. I don't expect you to understand. I have to go now. Bye, Mike."_

" _Sorry your job sucks. :C I hope your evening goes well. Bye, El."_

He winced at the end of the conversation. Apparently her job was a touchy subject now, even though she'd spouted about it while drunk at Wendy's. It must pay pretty damn well if she hated it, but he shrugged it off, feeling excited about the weekend. It was Wednesday, which meant head to get through two more school days. God, was it summer break yet?

Picking up his phone again he tapped one of the names under his favorites, listening to the line ringing for a few seconds before a familiar, jolly voice answered.

"Mike! What's up, man?"

"Hey, Dustin, nothing much. So, I was wondering if you're busy this weekend. I was kind of hoping to come and hang out for a bit…"

* * *

El stared down at her phone and sighed. Why had she said yes? He was so damn persistent, but at the same time some small thing inside of her was jumping and down for joy. She really did want to see him again and maybe if he just wanted to be friends… maybe she could be friends with him

"Miss, we're here," the cabdriver said and she startled a bit.

"Right, sorry, thank you."

She paid him and climbed out, trying to smooth her skirt. This time she was more cutesy, with a flowy pink skirt and white blouse, her nude heels lengthening her legs. Someone wolf-whistled but she didn't bother turning to look, bustling into the office building and hoping she wasn't late. He hated it when she was late.

"Hello, Miss Jane," the receptionist smiled and El let herself smile back.

The woman was always nice to her employer's daughter and El couldn't help but wonder if he made her do disgusting things for his friends too. Unlikely. He appeared in front of her, looking disappointed, and she felt her heart sink.

"Jane! You're nearly late," he hissed into her ear as he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the conference room. "Your private _meeting_ with the press secretary will take place in the spare office afterwards. Try not to be late to _that_."

She pasted on the usual smile as he ushered her into the conference room, taking her place on the other side of him in front of the laptop. Some of the men gave her looks as she walked in and she recognized a few faces, having spent nights with them as well. She pushed the revulsion down focused on her task. Taking notes was actually something she kind of enjoyed, losing herself in the words and letting her fingers whisk across the keyboard. The meeting went by fairly quickly, the business talk going over her head, but as it neared it end's she kept getting distracted.

Mike was coming. On Saturday. And they were getting lunch.

It made her pulse speed up and she tried to remind herself to calm down. It just food with a friend, she ate with Max all the time. Nothing to get worked up about. It was just some guy.

"Jane?"

She looked up, smiling prettily, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind. The room was emptying, the meeting over, and there was a man looking at her nervously. He was younger, maybe in his mid-thirties, and was sweating profusely. A first-timer.

"D-Dr. Brenner said we had an appointment?" He gulped.

She flashed him another sweet smile. "Of course, let me just save these notes and I'll show you to the office."

She led him to the empty office, opening the door. It had a desk and computer for show, but it was the only office in the building with a full-sized couch. Papa had set it up especially for her last year, for her to do his dirty business. With a stifled a sigh she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open, turning back to the press secretary. He stared down at her exposed skin with wide eyes and then smiled nervously, licking his lips.

Thinking of her upcoming Saturday—and the person she'd be seeing that day—she stepped towards the grinning man and let herself smile back.

* * *

Mike went over the speed limit the whole way to Indianapolis. He couldn't help it, even if he was going to be early, he just had to get into the city. Dustin had already made plans that weekend but had gamely let Mike crash on his couch after he explained the situation.

"There's an extra key under the Smaug statue next to the flower pot. Don't let the cats out," he'd told Mike.

He planned to stop at Dustin's and drop his stuff off before heading downtown. The place she'd picked was in the metro, near her apartment, and she'd told him he could pick her up since he knew where she lived anyways.

His heart rate was ridiculous, but no amount of calm breathing or rationalizing made it slow down and eventually he'd given up, trying to focus on something else. But it was impossible to to think about anything but her. Their night together kept coming back up in his mind and he tried not to think about it. He wasn't here for sex, he hadn't really been aiming for that the first time either—he just wanted to see her again.

After dropping his stuff at Dustin's—and making sure to not let the cats escape—he headed downtown, giving up and parking in a garage after finding zero parking. There was one a half block from her apartment building and he was glad to see it still had vacancy. He nervously fidgeted the whole way to her place, unsure what he was going to say or do. Would it be weird to hug her? Should he just say hi? What if she asked him to come inside?

 _That's not going to happen, you're lucky she agreed to see you at all._

He found himself in front of her door and swallowed nervously before rapping it with his knuckles, wincing at the loud sound. There were distant footsteps and then the door opened and she was standing in front of him, looking like a vision.

He sucked in a breath, hardly able to believe how pretty she looked. She had on a pale blue sundress, a yellow cloth belt cinching her tiny waist, with white wedge sandals that had ribbons that tied up her ankles like a ballerina's, bringing her up a few inches. Her hair was half-up, a small braid pulling it back from her face, and she had on pink lipstick.

"Mike Wheeler," she breathed, staring at him with wide eyes, like was surprised even though she'd been expecting him.

He couldn't gauge what her reaction was, lifting a hand and awkwardly waving.

"Hey, El," he chirped, wincing at how squeaky his voice sounded.

She let her eyes roam up and down, taking him in and he broke out in a sweat, hoping he hadn't overdressed. He was wearing khaki slacks and green-and-blue striped, cotton button-up with his favorite pair of beat up Converse. A strange mix of casual and dressy, but she didn't look impressed, some unreadable emotion plaguing her eyes as she stared at him. He gulped.

Then she took two steps, closing the space between them and threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down. Her lips met his and he almost jerked back in surprise, but then melted, giving in to whatever she was feeling and grabbing her, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened and she was walking backwards, leading him into her apartment and kicking the door closed behind them.

They didn't even make it to her room, ending up on the wide, grey sectional couch in the living room. She'd pushed him down and crawled onto his lap, sliding the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, watching as he looked down at her breasts, pushed up by the lacey cups of her bra. He had that reverent look again and she'd felt his hands slide up her legs, pushing her dress up, hands so careful. Her fingers were pulling at his button up and she frowned.

"Why can't you wear a t-shirt like a normal person," she complained.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was trying to look nice."

She managed to pull the last few buttons and push the shirt open, not bothering to take it off of him all the way, feeling desperate. Whatever this was, whatever she was let happening to herself, it needed to happen _fast_. She ground her hips against his, listening as his breath caught in this throat, and then she was reaching for his khakis. She was pretty good at getting clothing off of men by now, and her nimble fingers were soon reaching into his underwear, grasping him and giving him a few firm strokes. He threw his head back and groaned and she felt him harden in her hand.

Moving so she was hovering over him, she tugged her dress to the side and then reached for her own underwear, trying to pull them down and then getting frustrated. With huff she pulled, ripping the lace off of her and tossing it aside.

"Woah, easy there—"

"Shut up and kiss me, Mike," she demanded.

He wasn't in a place to say no and immediately grabbed her like she told him, pulling her closer. He felt her hand on his dick again as she lined herself up over him and then her tight heat was surrounding him as she slid down all the way, straddling him, making him moan into her mouth. _Fuck_ , how did she feel so good?

"El, fuck," he grunted as she pulled away and began to move her hips up and down.

"I like it when you call me El," she whispered into his ear as she sped up.

He set his hands on her hips, helping her to move and groaning again, his head falling back as she moved frantically, as if he would disappear out from under her. It seemed like she was afraid and he ran his hands up and down her back, trying to reassure her that he wasn't going anywhere, but she started bucking her hips desperately. It was almost too much and he realized he didn't want it to be over so soon. If this was it, the last time he would be this close, he wanted to make it count.

"Wait, El," he gasped, "wait."

She slowed, looking down at him, chest heaving from the exertion of riding him so hard. That bit of fear haunted her eyes and he wanted to take it from her, let her just enjoy herself. She bit her lip like she was worried.

"What?"

"Just… slower. Please. I want to feel you."

He had a firm grip on her hips and pulled her down close, as far as she could go, making her cry out, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. She twitched around him and he began to move her in a slow circle around his dick, keeping her in his lap and keeping her _close_ as she caught on to the rhythm. It was different, something new, and she her eyes widened at the sensation. How was he so good at this?

He watched her face, enjoying her expression, finding out what made her react and what didn't. She started moving more quickly and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her throat, trailing kisses across shoulders and then experimentally nibbling on her collarbones. She moaned and he bit a little harder, sucking on the spot apologetically as she whimpered. She bounced unexpectedly and he sucked harder on accident, pulling back and realizing he'd left a purple spot.

He looked back up at her face, noticing how she was relaxing, her expression no longer fearful but calm and, eyes shut as she just _felt_ him. If all he was to her was a stress-reliever, he supposed he could accept that, as long as she was happy, as long as he meant _something_ to her. He gathered her in his arms again, pressing their chests togethers and breathing in the smell of her rose shampoo and lilac perfume. She was like a floral bouquet he didn't want to fade away.

She let her head fall back and he started to move his hips with hers, bucking up and watching as she gasped each time. They moved _together_ , his strokes matching her swiveling hips, their bodies syncing perfectly as they panted in harmony, their sounds making a symphony as he they clung tightly to each other.

"El," he whispered. Her hazy eyes met his and he found himself speechless, repeating her name like it was the only thing that mattered. "El. _El_."

And then he was clenching his teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he exploded up into her. She bounced a few more times and then he felt her tighten and convulse, collapsing onto his chest with a whimper as she shuddered, her head resting in the crook of his neck as she gasped for air.

He was gasping too, head dizzy, but he reached up, cupping her face in his hands and bringing it to his own , kissing her, trying to express his gratitude for allowing what just happened. She pulled back shyly and then tucked her face back into his neck for a second, breathing in heavily before sitting up and climbing off of him, letting him fall out of her. She scooted over and collapsed on to the couch, still trying to catch her breath.

"El?"

She turned her head to look at him. "Yeah?"

"You're incredible. Amazing. Really."

"Yeah?" She sounded unsure.

"Yeah. I—" he bit the sentence off, knowing it would head somewhere she wasn't ready for yet, instead blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "Thanks for… that."

He tucked himself back into his pants, buttoning up shirt next, and she sat up all the way, looking at him with those soft eyes, the ones she'd had when they first talked in a dimly-lit nightclub and she'd asked him to get fries with her. When she had wanted him.

"You don't have to thank me," she said quietly.

"I mean… I feel like I should," he licked his lips, "you're worth a thank you."

She looked stunned and then glanced away, seeming shy.

"How about you buy me lunch now? That's a good thank you. I love food."

Mike's student's words came back to him rather suddenly and he grinned. " _Girls like food."_ He made a mental note to make sure Dylan would get an A in his class and then he nodded.

"Deal."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **I'm writing the next chapter and I'm trying not to cry. I'm sorry for the angst coming up, I didn't mean for it to happen like this. Again, please review. Your comments and ideas get me super excited and really help me to figure out where to go next. I appreciate you all. ~Wyn**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_AN:_**

 ** _I think I'll be able to do a double chapter post again today. I had originally written chapters 6 and 7 together but split them up for continuity sake, so keep your eyes peeled for that later tonight._**

 ** _I apologize again for the angst that's about to go down._**

* * *

The rest of March passed by in a happy blur as Mike found he was allowed to start visiting El on weekends. Then April. School got out the end of May and he had more time on his hands, finding himself spending more and more of it in Indianapolis. Dustin didn't bother unmaking the couch bed, giving his friend an understanding smile and presenting him with a his own key. He needed it, since El rarely let him sleep over. Most nights he visited she had work, dressing up after they got dinner or hung out and then disappearing.

They didn't always have sex. He never went expecting it, but sometimes she would pull him to her or roll onto him and put his hands on her hips, like she was craving his touch and whatever reassurance came with it. He was always ready to give her whatever she needed, trailing kisses across her cheeks and nuzzling her forehead and holding her closely. Sometimes they would just order in, pizza or chinese food, and pig out on the couch in front of the giant flat screen, making sure to hide the containers so Max wouldn't rant about their unhealthy choices. Those were usually the nights he was allowed to stay, holding her close as she fell asleep, his heart finally feeling like it was in the right place.

Those were the moments he lived for. Not the inbetweens when they went days without talking, when he would send her message and get no reply. She wasn't letting him in all the way yet, he could tell there was something heavy that weighed her down, something he didn't know, something she didn't _want_ him to know. She kept him at arm's length, but she still let him hold her hand and he was grateful for that.

He wasn't letting go, and she was starting to realize that, allowing him in step by step. But they didn't have a label, they didn't talk about her job or her dad, and he didn't change her name in his phone. It was slow, whatever it was that was growing between them, like springtime slowly thawing the winter frost. But Mike never pushed, never tried to be more than whatever he was to her, and it was enough.

On her birthday, June 11th, he showed up at her door holding a cupcake with a single candle in and she'd laughed, pulling him into the apartment. Max had already taken her out for dinner so they split the cupcake, smudging frosting on each other and laughing before kissing the sweet substance off of each other. They ended up on the rug in the living room, naked under a blanket, talking about the complexities of one of his favorite things—Star Wars.

"I still can't believe you like the prequels better," he said, shaking his head.

He was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling while she cuddled up on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She playfully tickled his side.

"Why's that so hard to believe? The characters are amazing. All due respect to Alec Guinness, but Ewan McGregor is the best Obi-Wan. And Natalie Portman as Padme?" she sighed. "Still my favorite character."

"You like her more than Leia?"

"No… I mean, they were both amazing, but Leia is definitely Padme's daughter. Without Padme the Rebels might not have even had a start. And she managed to juggle being a secret wife with a scandalous marriage and a senator on top of that. She was literally a queen at one point. How do you do better than that?"

"Yeah, okay. Anakin really reamed himself when he picked the dark side over her."

"And I still don't buy that whole 'she lost the will to live' garbage either. Who would believe Padme Amidala, queen, senator, and overall badass, would just _decide_ to die cause her whiny husband turned on her? When she had two babies to take care of? Yeah, right."

Mike perked up, interested.

"Well, do you have a better explanation?" he'd never really bought that line either, it felt too… lame.

"Okay, so, just humor me, I read this theory once—"

"You read Star Wars theories?" He choked out. She really was his dream girl in so many ways.

"I mean, not regularly, this one just popped up on facebook as clickbait and I went for it—"

"Hold up," he sat up, "you have a facebook? Why aren't we friends?"

He reached for his phone, unlocking it and tapping on the familiar blue app.

"No, Mike, wait—"

"Is it under Jane? Jane Brenner?"

He started to type in her name but she snatched the phone out of his hands and he finally turned to look at her, confused. She looked panicked, trying to delete the search, closing the app and then straight up _deleting_ it.

"Hey!" he yelped, "why did you do that?! I use that!"

"You can't… don't add me, I have it for business only," she snapped.

"Well, fuck, you could have just told me that instead of freaking out. Now I have to reinstall it and sign back in… I don't even know if I remember my password."

He realized she'd gotten up, walking over to her clothes and pulling them back on, facing away from him. Her shoulders were tense and there was something radiating off of her, some emotion he couldn't pinpoint. His heart dropped.

"Shit, sorry, El, that was rude of me. I should have asked first."

She said nothing and he felt panic well up in his chest, getting up and reaching for his clothes and hastily sliding into them. Was this about facebook? Or business? He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong but he whatever it was he wanted to fix it.

"Mike," she'd walked over to the window, staring down at the street below, full of cars and people, the lights twinkling against the glass. "I think… we need to stop."

All of the oxygen left the room—left his lungs—and he blinked, barely managing to stutter out a question.

"Stop… stop what?"

"This, whatever this is. We need to stop pretending."

"Pretending _what?!"_ He found his voice, unable to keep the outrage out of it.

She turned around, finally meeting his eyes, and he didn't recognize her face. It was like she was wearing a mask, like she had become someone else, and he didn't know who the women in front of him was anymore. There was sadness in her eyes, but her face was like a brick wall, no emotion.

"Pretending like we know each other. Like we _could_ know each other."

"But you do know me, El. I'm Mike Wheeler, age twenty-six." He was trying to convince her, trying to prove to her that he hadn't changed. "I was born and raised in Hawkins, Indiana and I live there now, teaching science at Hawkins Middle School. I love Star Wars and syrup on my eggs and breakfast for dinner. I haven't… you _know_ me, El."

She crossed her arms cooly, her expression frosty, and Mike finally saw it. " _Max calls me an ice queen because I have no emotions,"_ she'd said. Now he believed it.

"And what about me, Mike? Who am I?" she challenged.

"You're… you're El. Today you turned twenty-five. You like to be called Eleven—um, I'm not sure why though, but you're from Indiana too. You like the color pink and strawberry-flavored things _because_ they're pink and you like sunny days with puffy white clouds. Your favorite Star Wars movie is Attack of the Clones… you work for you dad and you hate your job but you stay anyways even though I have no idea why—"

"You don't know me, Mike. Not even close."

He walked towards her, holding out his hands, face pleading.

"Then let me, El. I… whatever you think you have to hide from me, you don't. I won't judge you or whatever. If you want to keep your facebook for business, that's okay. I don't need to know _everything_ ," he tried to grab her hand, wanting her to know he was being honest but she pulled away, walking stiffly towards the front door.

"I can't do that. I don't expect you to understand," she swallowed, setting her hand on the handle. "I think you should go now."

He didn't want to leave, but there was no point in planting his feet and throwing a tantrum in her apartment. It's not like he could even claim something, claim that he would try harder or be a better boyfriend. Because he wasn't her boyfriend. When it came down to it he wasn't her _anything_ and she was letting him know that now. That he was nothing.

Her face was still frozen, eyes cold, and he knew he couldn't be able to thaw her with a kiss this time. His heart was throbbing painfully as he realized this might actually be it. She might be kicking him out for good.

"Can I ask why?" He swallowed the lump, risking another look at her. "Why you won't let me in?"

Her chin wobbled, just for a second, and she looked away as she spoke, voice strained.

"Because I know you can't want what I really am." She opened the door. "I can't pretend anymore. I can't pretend to be what you want me to be when I'm something so much worse."

"But El—"

" _Stop it."_ Her voice was harsh, grating against him. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not your precious _El_."

"I don't _care!_ If you think whatever dark secret you have to hide is going to make me stop wanting you then you don't fucking know me at all!" He exploded, the anger quickly melting into anguish that was visible on his face. "I'm _never_ going to stop wanting you."

She opened the door, turning away again, like she didn't want to watch him walk away, and he felt his feet moving against his will, taking him from her. Everything was telling him to stay but he knew it wouldn't help. Wherever she was right now, he couldn't reach her no matter how he tried. She was the ice queen, freezing him out of her ice castle and if he stayed he would get hypothermia and die. It wasn't a fight he could win right now.

"So you just… you want to quit? Throw me out? Throw out… whatever this was?"

"I have to, Mike," she was closing the door, face suddenly apologetic. "I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be." She was talking in past tense, like it was already over.

"Wait," his hand stopped the door just as it was about to close. "El, I mean… if you're not who I think you are then… who _are_ you?"

She blinked at him and then her face crumpled, eyes filling with tears as she shook her head.

"I'm Jane."

The door shut, the deadbolt clicking into place as she locked him out of her life. He stood there, stunned by her revelation. He didn't know what she meant by that. Of course her real name was Jane, he knew that. But he never called her that… ever. Other than today, when he'd tried to find her facebook. Which was for business only.

Something about the situation made his skin crawl, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. What was so terrible she couldn't tell him. What had she done that made her believe he wouldn't _want_ her anymore? He hadn't stopped wanting her since they met.

 _Don't let go._

With a heavy sigh he turned, knowing there was nothing he could right now. If she needed space, he would give it, but anxiety swarmed his insides like a thousand buzzing bees. What if she was serious? What if it was over? He couldn't let himself believe it, he refused to believe it, but he didn't have any other choice but to walk away… did he?"

It was desperate and stupid but he turned back and ran to the door, slamming his fists against the wood, over and over, like he could punch through the door and make her listen.

"El!" He let the frustration fill his voice as he rested his head on the cool metal number that seemed to mock him. "El, please!"

There was only cold silence. She wasn't opening up and trying to pound down her walls wouldn't help but he just felt like he had to _try_. He had to be able to say that he _tried_ or he would never be able to forgive himself.

But there was no answer, not even a breath of a reply. He didn't want to give up but… he couldn't sleep in her hallway. There was nothing he could do now but bide his time and hope she changed her mind… but as the silence stretched and the coldness set in, he realized how futile that was.

He finally made himself walk away, trying to fight the tears that filled his eyes. Crying wouldn't change anything and he tried to swallow the sickening feeling that was crawling up his throat. Why had she pushed him away? After the last three months of bliss… what had changed so suddenly that she didn't want him anymore?

The elevator dinged and he stepped inside, rubbing his hands as the tears fell from his eyes, making the world blur around him.

His knuckles felt as sore as his heart.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **Again, I would lie and say everything is going to get better soon... but it's not. I'm really really sorry if you all were wanting something happy today. Feel free to yell at me via review. I'll accept your anger today haha.**_

 _ **~Wyn**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN:**_

 _ **There is a trigger warning here for sexual assault. I cried writing part of this chapter.**_

 _ **Take care of yourselves, friends.**_

* * *

The next few days went by painfully slow. He wanted to text her or to call her, to hear her voice, but he knew better. Blowing up her phone would just annoy her, cement her decision to throw him out further into her mind. But he felt helpless, like he was floating in vast sea with nothing tying him down. He went through the motions, writing new lesson plans for the next school year, and trying to find a course at the local community college. The school he worked for like the teachers to keep working on their own educations and he was taking the occasional class here and there, hoping to chip away at master's degree. He went over to his parent's when his mom invited him for dinner, hung out with Will, he even went and saw a movie with Holly, some scifi adventure he'd genuinely enjoyed.

But it felt empty and as the days turned into a week, then two weeks, then three weeks, he started to feel numb. Maybe she had been serious, maybe she was done with him.

He'd tried the meme method again, sending her the occasional funny picture, hoping to hear anything, but the images were delivered and seen without a reply. The weeks stretched into a month and then two months and it was August, the summer heat starting to cool. He tried to move on… but he couldn't.

 _Don't let go_.

Part of him was afraid he'd be stuck in limbo forever, constantly checking his phone, hanging out at Dustin's and playing video games, wanting to be nearby just in case. He felt like he was being split in half, unsure of whether or not to keep trying or just… move on. It got harder to sleep and he found himself driving aimlessly around town some nights, wanting to be on the road, heading to her.

But she stayed quiet.

Through it all he kept wondering what she'd meant. Who was Jane? Why was Jane so different from El? Why didn't she think he would want Jane?

But most of all he found himself wondering as he went through is mundane tasks and lay in bed... what was she doing now?

* * *

Jane had been busy. As the election for city council closed in, Papa had been working her double time. Most nights she ended up soaking in the tub, knees pulled to her chest, trying to soothe her aching body. Before he'd only called for her once every few weeks, but now she was "assisting" him no less than twice a week. She felt sore all over.

The only thing buoying her up before had been… Mike. His visits gave her something to look forward and as much as she hated it… she missed him. His smell still lingered on her pillows and she couldn't make herself wash the sheets. Her heart felt as sore as her body, but no amount of soaking or massages could make it go away.

But part of her was relieved too. Bouncing and back forth between his El and Papa's Jane had been exhausting. Hiding how tired she felt, making sure her phone was on silent so the incessant phone calls and emails and texts went unnoticed, making sure he was gone by the time had to leave. Sometimes she had let him stay and watch her get ready, laying on her bed and telling her funny stories about his students as she put on her makeup.

Only once he tried to ask about what she did. About where she was going and why she had to look so nice. She'd shut down the conversation and he didn't ask again, which helped. But the guilt at keeping it a secret, that came from not letting him know how he was sharing her with hordes of nameless men, it weighed her down.

She tried to find ways to distract herself.

Every time she helped Papa, he deposited several hundred dollars into her account and lately it had been bursting. She'd scheduled several massages, dragged Max to get pedicures together, ate out a lot. But nothing could fill the empty void in her chest that gaped open hungrily. The only time it was quiet was when she'd laid in Mike's arms… when he he looked at her with those warm eyes, pressing grateful kisses across her body. It was like she didn't know she'd been drowning all her life and suddenly he was oxygen, making her realize she was alive.

And she'd thrown him out.

She kept telling herself she'd done the right thing. It would only hurt more to play along, to pretend to be the girl he kept coming back to. So she shut she door, pretending like she didn't hear him pounding against it, calling her name. She ignored the texts, ignored Max's questions about when he visiting again, ignored anything that had anything to do with him.

A clean break was better than dragging it out and hurting him worse, right?

The water in the tub was starting to get cold and she scooted to the faucet, draining some water and then turning the hot water back on, letting it fill up the tub, making it hot enough it to burn. She wanted to scald off the feeling of the hands on her skin, the hands of the men who didn't look her in the eye as they used her body.

It made her feel so empty but she didn't know what else to do. There was nothing else _for_ her to do. Even if she stopped, even if she escaped, she would never really be free of the self-hatred that drove her back to him over and over. She was worthless. She was stupid. She wasn't good at anything that wasn't letting men fuck her. Why try and change that now?

The water was getting hotter but she didn't feel it, losing herself to the memory of when it all began.

Growing up she was never quite good enough. Her grades were average, she wasn't great at sports or writing or piano or _anything_. She had no talent, no special skill, nothing that made her stand out. And Papa didn't let her forget it.

He'd adopted her when she nine, and she'd never figured out why he chose her. She was a small child, unassuming and rather plain. "Plain Jane" as she'd been called. Nothing special to speak of. Maybe that was why, because she was so desperate for love and approval, willing to do anything to make him happy.

But she rarely did back then. Her teen years were spent hiding in her room, devouring books about girls with special powers and loyal friends who saved the world together and fell in love. It took a while for her to realize those girls would never be her.

He sent her to college even though she didn't have a clue what she wanted to be. None of the majors she tried fit, and she ended up flunking out after two years, unable to find anything that would motivate her to show up to class. The only good that had come from it had been her assigned roommate freshman year… Max.

They'd bonded over a shared insecurity of the future, but Max was driven, knowing what she wanted to do and going for it. After Jane dropped out they moved into a tiny, shitty apartment near campus, liking each other enough to want to say friends. They got along well and since both were single it seemed like a perfect arrangement. Papa never really liked Max, but had allowed it since she helped Jane start to climb out of her hermit ways.

It was after she dropped out that he offered to let her be his assistant. So that was what she became, doing regular things like scheduling meetings, answering phone calls, taking notes and refilling empty mugs. She messed up, spilling coffee and offending clients, but he set his jaw and made her fix her mistakes. There was always a feeling that he was trying to figure out what she could be good for if it wasn't this.

He figured it out after she turned twenty-one.

Up until that point she hadn't gone to a lot of events, not wanting to royally screw up anything important for him. But he'd given her three hundred bucks to find a nice dress and shoes and told her to show up to The Conrad at seven-thirty. With Max's help she'd found a long yellow dress with a low back that was classy but sexy and shown up to the hotel on time. She was old enough to drink alcohol by then, so he'd put a cold glass in her hand, something fruity with a bitter aftertaste, and told her to drink.

He took her around the room, introducing her to dozens of people, city officials, business tycoons, athletes even. Some with wives or girlfriends who gave her chilly looks, but the drink in her hand that kept refilling itself kept her from noticing. After several rounds the room began to spin, names muddling and things getting hazy.

"Jane, I have some friends… and they're lonely. Do you think you could maybe keep them company for me?" his voice had been low in her ear and she'd looked at him, bleary-eyed. "I just have so many other people to talk to, but I don't want to be rude. It would be such a great help."

"Of course, Papa," she'd slurred, nodding her head.

Hanging out with a few men while he talked up someone else would be easy, right? Everything was easy, everything was great… Of course she wanted to help him. She would do anything to make him happy. And then he'd done something so uncharacteristic she'd nearly dropped her drink. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, something so fatherly and loving and foreign that she shivered, the small child that still lived inside of her reaching out with pleading eyes.

"I'll be back before you know it. Please try and make them happy. For me," he'd implored and she'd smiled so widely her face hurt.

"Anything, Papa."

She'd taken another gulp, finishing her drink, and felt another one put in her hand before turning to the group of men, trying to smile as sweetly as possible. After that things got blurry, she couldn't remember the conversations she had or the names they'd introduced themselves as or when they'd grabbed her arm and led her to the elevator.

But she remembered being in the hotel room, lying on the bed as hands ripped at her pretty new dress, a myriad of swirling faces looking down at her.

That was the first time she'd felt the ice. The coldness the crept up her body and into her heart, numbing her so she didn't feel the fingers bruising her hips, the hands that turned her over different ways, adjusting her limp body. The jolting, the never ending burning between her legs as each one took his turn, the stickiness that coated her body after they finished.

They'd left her there, not even bothering to cover her with a blanket after she passed out. She'd woken up to the profuse apologizing of women who was trying to clean the room, who'd taken one look at her sad appearance and then brought her a robe from the closet and a glass of water. It was the only true kindness she received that day.

She'd vomited at some point while she'd been blacked out and as she stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower, she'd seen herself in the mirror, makeup smudged and running down her face in black streaks, hair a tangled mess round her head, her whole body covered in vomit and streaks of cum. She'd scrubbed her skin raw, sitting in the tub under the spray of water, crying until she was dehydrated and couldn't make anymore tears.

And then Papa had come. Pulling her from the shower and putting her into new, soft pajamas and then holding her as she told him everything, rocking her slowly. He hadn't held her in years, not since she'd skinned both her knees when she ten, while learning to ride her bike, and she'd curled into his chest, finally feeling safe.

"Jane, you'll be okay, I'll make you a doctor's appointment tomorrow and make sure you're physically sound. I'll take care of you now."

"Okay, Papa," she'd whispered, pressing her face against the front of his suit, letting herself breath again.

He held her like he was statue but she was too desperate to notice. He shifted her a bit so he could look down at her, his voice changing timber.

"I also wanted to say thank you," he'd told her, voice low and she'd looked up at him with a curious expression, wondering what she'd done right. "For making my friends so happy. I made several new deals today that will very profitable in the future. You did well."

Her whole body had frozen over then, at the realization that it hadn't been some weird incident, that he'd _planned_ for her to be there. For them to take her. Revulsion crept up throat from her stomach and then she was running to the bathroom, her knees hitting the floor as she emptied what little she had in her stomach into the toilet. She sobbed, hearing him come in behind her and looked up at him, unbelieving.

They sympathy was gone, replaced with disgust and disappointment.

"You really should learn to hold your liquor, however. These sort of things can't be happening all the time. You don't want the reputation of a drunken whore, do you? What would my colleagues think? What would your roommate think?" His tone was like cold steel, cutting her and freezing her at the same time.

At that point Max was all she had. And Max was strong, she didn't get stupidly drunk, didn't let men take advantage of her. If she found out she would lose respect for her and not want to be her friend anymore. That scared her more than his threat to ruin her reputation.

"I—"

"We won't speak of this again, will we? Let bygones be bygones. I'm sure you'll take better care of yourself from now on."

That was when she'd stood, shaking her head and backing away, towards the door. His voice cut through the air like a whip.

"And where do you expect to go, Jane? You have no one. No money. Nowhere to go," he'd softened again, walking to her, pulling her back to his chest and placing another one of those kisses on the top of her head. Something inside of her sighed, despite her anger. "I've deposited a nice sum into your account as a thank you, and I recently found you a better apartment than that disgusting abode you've been living in. You can move in next month once I've signed the lease."

She'd tugged away from his grip but he held her tighter.

"I'm the only one who truly cares about you, Jane. I take care of you, make sure you're fed and clothed. I took you from that filthy orphanage and raised you as my own. Can't you do this one thing for me?"

His words were breaking her. He was right. He took care of her, made sure she was comfortable, made sure never _needed_ anything. Except love. But he was giving that to her now, holding her and telling her he was proud.

"Besides… who else would want you _now?_ "

She'd splintered apart, her last bit of self-confidence shattering as she realized he was right. She was broken, dirty, disgusting. Nobody would want her after what had happened. She didn't even want herself anymore. She wanted to be someone else. A sob shuddered her body and then he was holding her again.

"There, there, Jane. You'll be alright. I've got you now."

" _I've got you now."_

The words echoed in her brain. After that she'd been under his thumb, unable to find somewhere else to go. Not believing there was anywhere to go. Maybe she should have told Max, but there was fear there too. Would she even believe her? She'd been drunk… she couldn't even remember their names or faces. Would _anyone_ believe her?

Would anyone even care?

"Eleven! Why is there water everywhere?!"

Max's shout brought her back and she realized the tub was overflowing.

"Shit!"

She reached for the spout and turned it off, standing up out of the steaming water and reaching for a towel to wrap around herself and another to throw onto the floor. Max busted through the door, looking concerned.

"What happened?!"

"I… left the tap on, I'm sorry, I zoned out for a second… get more towels from the linen closet!" she pleaded, reaching for the hand towel and anything absorbent, tossing it onto the giant puddle that was spreading down the hall. Max reappeared holding several towels, a robe, and roll of paper towels, dumping them onto the floor before they water managed to seep into their rooms. El pulled the plug on the tub and started to drain it.

It was one of those old-fashioned, claw-foot kind that you could completely immerse yourself in and while she loved taking baths in it, she was definitely pissed at herself for nearly flooding the apartment. Her skin felt hot and she looked down and realized she was lobster-red. Shit. She couldn't burn herself, not today. That evening she had an important appointment, one she couldn't miss.

"Jesus, Elle-Belle, you couldn't have paid better attention? I love you, but this is a mess," Max sighed heavily. "I'll get the mop, you get on some clothes."

"Sorry," Eleven peeped, feeling disappointed with herself.

She did as Max suggested and the two finished cleaning up the water, throwing wet towels at each other and laughing. Max always made things fun, it was what made her such a great trainer. You didn't notice that your body was in excruciating physical pain when your trainer was making you feel invincible.

"Ugh, now I'll have to shower again, I'm all sweaty," Eleven complained.

"Why? Do you have to work again tonight?" Max asked as she tossed another wet towel into their laundry basket.

"Yeah… another event at The Conrad. I'm not sure when I'll be home."

"That's like the third one this week. You've been working a lot, lately. Are you okay, Ellie?" Max looked worried. "You look tired and… sad. Maybe you need to tell your dad you need some time off."

She rolled her eyes. "You know I can't do that. I'm his only assistant. He needs me."

"He can't need you that badly. And why do you always have to stay so late? Does he make you wash the dishes and sweep up too?"

Eleven bit her lip. "It's not… you wouldn't understand."

"Wouldn't understand what? That you're overworked and tired? Is that…" A strange light filled Max's eyes. "Is that why Mike hasn't been around? Don't tell me you've been picking your dad and his shitty work hours over the nicest guy you've ever met."

"No, Max… that's not it."

"Then why haven't I seen him in like a month?"

"Because… it didn't work out, okay? He's…" _Perfect. Amazing. Kind._ "...too good for me. And too small-town. He needs someone more on his level." _Because he's good and I'm a disgusting excuse for a human being._

"I'm not even going to ask what that means," Max sighed, giving up.

"Thank you."

Max had left after they finished, late for her next client, leaving Eleven alone. No, leaving Jane alone. She'd started the transformation in the shower, to the alluring version of herself. Papa had sent her a box with specific clothing, because the man she was meeting was important. She wasn't even allowed to know his title or name, only given the information that he held the power to insure Papa's win in the election that fall. That she needed to please him at any cost.

So she'd put on the fancy lingerie, the garter belt that held up the thigh-high stockings, everything black and like silk on her tanned skin. There was black dress too, with a low back and high-slit, definitely not business appropriate. How was she supposed to stay invisible tonight? It wouldn't be possible and she sighed, applying her makeup dark enough to match her outfit, deciding he wouldn't have told her to wear it if he hadn't wanted her to.

Her phone buzzed and she cringed, hoping it wasn't Mike again. It wasn't, thankfully, but it was Papa instead, and she read the message with a furrowed brow.

" _Change of plans. Your guest requires assistance before his meeting. Are you ready now?"_

" _Yes."_ She typed back.

" _Excellent. Same room number. Don't let me down today, Jane. Do whatever he asks and be a good girl."_

" _Yes, Papa."_

Thankfully there was a cab already waiting and she sighed, grateful she wouldn't be late. Something felt off, however, and she tried ignore it, the strange sinking in her stomach. This was just business. The usual. Another man to please, another deal to make, another smile from Papa. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But the anxiety didn't leave.

* * *

It was past ten o'clock and Mike was almost asleep, eyes just starting to drift shut when his phone started ringing loudly. He sat up, surprised and a little annoyed, reaching for it and swearing under his breath. If it was another prank call from Dustin…

He blinked at the name on his screen, unsure of how to react.

 _Do Not Call EVER! is calling…._

Part of him wanted to hit ignore. Ignore her like she'd ignored him. But that small part of him was quickly overpowered by the rest of him and he hit the green button, putting the phone to his ear.

"Um, hello?"

"Mike?!"

It was Max and she sounded panicky. His heart bounced into his throat, her tone telling him what he didn't want to know.

"Yeah, it's me. What's going on? Is El—"

"She's… I just got home and found her on the floor in front of the door. She's all bruised up and _bleeding_ and I don't know—"

"She's hurt?! Who hurt her?!" He almost yelled.

"I don't know! She said something about her dad knowing and then about the rules—someone breaking the rules? I can't hardly understand her, she keeps crying, and she won't talk to me at all now. I'm freaking out—"

"Why did you call me?" He asked. It didn't matter, really, but he had to know. "I mean… she hasn't talked to me in a month."

"Because I know you still _care_ ," Max's voice cracked, the desperation seeping through the phone. "Are you in town? I can't… I don't know what to do. I need help this time. And she keeps saying your name. I didn't—"

"She's saying my name?"

"Yes! God, stop repeating everything I say! When can you be here? I'm going to try and get her into the tub, she's cold and all scratched up—"

"I can be there in an hour. I'll step on it um…" he wasn't sure if it was good idea but decided to try anyways. "Can you put the phone to her ear?"

"Sure, here."

There was the sound of shuffling and then sobbing. Her sobbing. Mike felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.

"El?"

A sniffle and then—

"M-Mike?"

"I'm coming, El. I'll be there soon, I promise."

"Mike. Mike, _please_ ," she begged. "Please."

"I'll be there soon. I have to go."

"Mike—"

He hung up, knowing there wasn't anything else he could until he was there, he had to trust Max would take care of her. There was a bag on the floor and he threw some clothes in, pulling on a pair of jeans and some socks. His wallet was in his pocket, his keys in his hand, and then he was in the car, speeding out of Hawkins and onto the interstate, his foot pushing the accelerator.

Gritting his teeth, he clenched the steering wheel, trying not to let the panic set in. He would be there soon, she needed him, she'd begged him. He stared at the open road in front of him, mumbling to himself under his breath.

"I'm coming, El. I promise."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I hate writing cliffhangers and I hate READING cliffhangers but this one was kind of necessary. I'm going to go and write the next chapter, I'm hoping to get it up tomorrow to keep your agony short. Again, feel free to rant at me in the comments, I'll accept the hate.**_

 _ **~Wyn**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN:**_

 _ **Hey I just want to first of all make a small disclaimer that I'm not trying to belittle the issues that are present in this fic. Rape and sexual assault and human trafficking are all things I take seriously. I hope I can bring awareness to those kinds of issues here and make them real without taking away from the stories of survivors.**_

 _ **If you have been assaulted and need help or someone to talk to, please find help. Google has lists of hotlines where someone will talk to you. You're not alone.**_

 _ **Remember that this is just one story, if something does happen, seek help immediately and try to get evidence by seeing a medical professional and documenting your experience. Please, friends, take care of yourselves and others.**_

 ** _On that note this chapter is less depressing. I'm still recovering from writing the last one in a way. We're getting closer to the end here. I hope you'll hang in there with me a bit longer._**

* * *

The door to the apartment was unlocked when Mike got there. It had taken him a record forty minutes, and he thanked his lucky stars that he managed to not get clocked by a single state trooper as he raced down the interstate. His heart was pounding as he pushed the door open, making sure it shut behind him and taking a few careful steps inside.

"Max? El?" He called.

"In here! The bathroom!"

Max's voice carried down the hallway and he quickly closed the space between him and the bathroom, hands shaking, not sure what to expect but fearing the worst. The door was ajar and he opened it, blinking at the sight in front of him.

Max was sitting on a stool that she'd pulled up next to the large tub in the middle of the room, holding a washcloth that was dotted with rusty red stains. She looked up as he came in, face worried but looking a bit relieved at his arrival. His eyes were on the person in the tub.

El was curled up, clutching her knees, tears slowly leaking from her eyes as she laid her head in Max's arms. There several scratches across shoulders and down her back, like claw marks almost, and her left eye was puffy and swollen, a red handprint standing out on her cheek. She sat up when he came in and his gaze fell on her neck. It was one giant bruise, obvious fingerprints making a dark purple collar around her neck, speckled with angry red welts and what looked like… bite marks?

White hot rage blasted through him as he realized someone had choked her and then _bitten_ her—over and over. He wanted to know _who,_ who would dare to do such a thing, so he could tear the shithead to pieces, beat him until—

"M-Mike?"

Her voice was scratchy and quiet, like it hurt her to talk, but he looked up from her wounds, meeting her eyes that were wide and filled with tears and and pain and _terror_. She looked like a wounded animal, kicked for the thousandth time. He wanted to take it from her, make her feel safe, wanted to hold her close and whisper that everything would be okay.

He walked to the tub, reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head before tugging his shoes and socks off. The jeans were just whatever and he didn't bother, didn't care enough to try and get out of them, mind focused on only one thing, one person.

He stepped into the tub, the end she wasn't sitting in, and sat down, causing water to pour over the sides. Max yelped, jumping up and grabbing a dry towel off the rack, tossing it onto the floor, but Mike didn't even apologize, didn't even notice what he'd done, too focused on El's trembling form.

She was still frozen in place, the hot water not enough to thaw her out, but he reached out with his arms, wrapping them around her and pulling her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin, pressing kisses across her forehead and to her soaked hair.

"I'm here, El. I told you I'd come. I promised," he murmured, holding her tight to him but not so tight he pressed against the bruises and scratches that covered her body. She was tense in his arms but then she looked up, her hazel-dotted browns meeting his ebony eyes, and something broke open, her face crumpling as she clung to him and cried, like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Mike. _Mike,_ " she sobbed, pressing herself against him, clutching her arms to her chest shoving her face into his neck. "I-I'm s-s-sorry."

"Shhh," he began to rock her, burying his face in her wet hair. "I'm here now. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

"B-But I t-told you—"

"Don't worry about it now, okay? Your voice is… your throat is sore, don't talk if it hurts," he tried to shush her.

From the doorway Max spoke up.

"I'll make some tea with honey," she was looking at him with grateful eyes. "I didn't want to leave her alone before…"

"I won't leave her," he promised and she nodded.

"I know you won't."

She turned and headed for the kitchen and Mike looked back down at El, her head resting in the middle of his chest as she sniffled. He eased himself backwards against the tub, stretching his legs out, so they were at a slant, figuring the angle would be more comfortable for them both. She was basically on top of him, on her side, legs still pulled up, arms crossed over her chest. Every now and then she would let out a whimper and he'd gently pull her close, press another kiss to her temple and whisper that she was okay.

Inside he was burning with rage.

He wanted to ask her who had done this and how and _why_ , but he knew it hurt her to talk and that she might not be ready yet. Whatever had happened had traumatized her—her shivering, beat-up body laying on him proved that—and he just wanted to know what happened, so he could figure out what would help. But she wasn't ready, so he just held her.

Max reappeared with a steaming mug, walking over to them and helping Mike to sit her up enough to take a sip. She didn't fight them, swallowing the warm liquid down with a wince.

"Better?" Max asked.

"Lil bit," she coughed. "Th-thanks."

She was still sitting in Mike's lap but she took the tea. Her hands were shaking so bad she spilled and Mike reached up to help her guide it to her lips again, watching as she drank it and then let out a heavy sigh.

"Are you sure… we could take you to the hospital, Eleven. What if you have internal bleeding or something? We wouldn't…" Max trailed off as El frantically shook her head.

"N-No," she quavered, eyes hard. "No doctors. Or police."

Max sighed but gave up, sitting onto the stool again.

"Okay, fine. But you have to… you need to tell us what happened. Who did this to you?"

El was staring down into her mug, listless, but Mike pulled her closer, trying to reassure her and she finally shook her head.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, voice hard and she shook her head again.

"I don't know his name. He's important. That's all I know."

"Important? Important to… who?"

"Papa."

Mike's eyes widened and he and Max exchanged a look. It was vague, but a clue at least to what had happened.

"Did this… happen while you were working? Working for you dad?" he asked.

"Yes," she mumbled, staring down into her cup.

"Was it someone your… your dad works with?"

"Yes."

"Does your dad know?"

Her voice was quieter. "Yes."

"Well, fuck, did he beat the guy up? Was he mad or something? Please tell me he called the police," Max cut in, looking ready to fight someone.

El made herself smaller, the mug shaking so much it fell from her hands and into the tub, with a splash and a loud _clink!_ Nobody blinked.

"No he was…" her shoulders sagged and she clutched herself, almost seeming to be somewhere else as she choked on the words. " _Proud of me."_

"What…" Mike was trying to make sense of what she was saying. "Your dad was proud of you? For getting mutilated by his friend or… whatever?"

This time it was a sob. " _Yes_."

Something clicked in his brain and he sat up, turning her to look at him at him, holding her by her shoulders and staring down into her face.

"Did your dad _send_ you to get assaulted so this… important guy would help him out? So he could gain something?"

She was staring up at him, eyes wide, and the fear was back. But she wasn't afraid of whoever had done this, the fear was directed at him. She was afraid of _him_ and what he was going to think if she admitted to what he was asking. He tried to make himself relax, pulling her close again.

"It's okay, El. I won't be mad… not at you," he kissed her forehead again, "I couldn't be. I just need to know… did your dad do this to you on purpose?"

Her chin wobbled and she sobbed harder, nodding yes.

He tucked her into his chest again, feeling fear bubble up into his stomach. Did her dad really have that much control over her? Had she known this was going to happen? She was trembling again and he held her tightly as Max reached over and rubbed her back, avoiding her cuts and bruises. It took another few minutes but she started to calm back down and Mike sighed, not wanting to ask the question but knowing it was important

"El? Did you… did you know? That he was going to do this to you?"

"No," she whispered quickly. "This is… against the rules. They're not supposed to hurt me. Ever."

Max furrowed her brow but didn't stop rubbing El's back.

"Ellie? Who is 'they'?" A clarity filed her eyes and she looked down at her friend in the tub, feeling horrified. "Have there been… have you done this before?"

"Y-Yes. For Papa's friends," the ugly truth she'd been hiding before was now spilling out messily, in bits in pieces. "I make them… _happy_ and they help him. But this one… he said he didn't have to follow the rules. He hurt—"

She broke down again but Mike was too stunned at her confession to say anything. Suddenly things were making sense. The secrecy, the "business only" facebook, the thing with her names. Why she kept pushing him away, why she was too ashamed to tell him the truth. The reason for keeping him in the dak was suddenly obvious. The dots connected, the lines formed, and finally the picture she'd been trying to hide for so long was painted crystal clear in his mind.

 _She was fucking men for her dad's personal gain and she did it willingly._

He looked down at her again and the fear was back in her eyes. His eyes drifted down to her neck, where she had been choked and bitten, the marks still fresh and red. He kept going, seeing the scratches on her arms, down her back across her chest. Her body, the thing he'd worshipped so many times, covered in the graffiti of another man. There was a fierce spike of jealousy but he quickly squelched it.

No matter what she'd done, who she'd let herself become, she hadn't asked for _this_ , this thing to happen to her now. She thought she was safe, that her father would keep her safe from this, but she'd been wrong. He'd let the rules be broken, let her be hurt in the worst way possible. And now she was here, in Mike's arms, and she just needed him. She _needed_ him. It wasn't the time to ask questions or be jealous or let anger creep in.

"M-Mike," her voice trembled, "I'm s-sorry. I didn't want to hurt you."

He reached for her, cupping her face in his hands and bringing it closer to his.

"You don't have to apologize, El. This isn't your fault."

"But I—"

He kissed her then, silenced her doubts and tried to tell her that she was forgiven, that nothing she had done would change how he felt about her. Max slipped out of the room unnoticed and when Mike pulled back there were tears in his eyes.

"I told you I would never stop wanting you. This doesn't change that," he promised, "I can't pretend like this doesn't hurt but right now… I don't care about that right now, okay?"

"Y-You still w-want me?" Her face as filled with disbelief. "But I slept with—but I'm broken and used and _filthy_. _L-Look_ at me, Mike."

"El, don't… you're not broken. Or filthy. Why would you say that?"

"B-Because… they… they ruined me and—"

"Who ruined you? The men you…" he couldn't make himself say it but she shook her head.

"No…. the ones… the first ones. Years ago…" her eyes were distant again and the sick feeling in his stomach came back as he realized there was more to story.

"The… first ones? What did they do?" He asked confused but wary.

It came out then, the truth of her past, of what had happened to her all those years ago. He held her as the memories came back violently and she alternated between fighting him and clinging to him, the truth finally out in all of it's hideous, twisted glory. When she finally came back and looked up at him, there were tears of outrage and empathy pouring down his face.

"I'm sorry, El, I'm so sorry he let them do that to you," he told her, pressing her to him like he was afraid she'd disappear. "I wish I could go back and keep it from happening. I wish I could keep you safe from all of this."

"Mike…" some part of her softened, the small child inside curled up and tucked safely against his chest, silent for the first time in a long while.

"I mean it, El. You're not dirty or broken, you've been… you've been _abused_ and mistreated and _used_ but that doesn't mean… you don't have to be those things anymore."

The water was getting cold and he felt her shiver against him.

"Why don't we get out? I…" he'd brought some extra clothes on a whim and was suddenly grateful. "I need to change but—"

"Don't leave me. Please," her eyes were huge again and he sighed.

"I won't, I promise."

They got out and Mike exchanged his soaking jeans for a dry towel before helping El into the pair of pajama pants and soft shirt Max had left on the counter. She winced as he brushed her skin and he noticed the bruises on her inner thighs, which were covered in bite marks too. There were also rings around her wrists and ankles and he realized she must have been tied down, her struggling leaving rope burns on her skin. His stomach roiled but he tried to fight the nausea, knowing she needed him to be strong right now, but feeling his heart breaking for her all over again.

 _Nobody would want this,_ he reminded himself. _She didn't deserve this._

They were almost out of the bathroom when Max reappeared, meeting him in the doorway, looking worried again, holding El's phone.

"He keeps calling her… but she shouldn't be answering," she whispered, showing him the phone that was vibrating, the screen telling them that Martin Brenner was calling.

Mike snatched it from her hand, hitting the green button and putting it his ear despite Max's yelp of disapproval.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?" Brenner's voice was hard.

"Someone who actually cares about your daughter you fucking prick."

There was a pause.

"I do care about my daughter. Why do you think I'm calling right now?"

"To make sure she isn't fucking _dead?_ She might as well be, after what you let that… fucking piece of shit do to her. She's covered in _bite marks_ for Christ's sake!"

"You… know?"

The older man sounded unsure, a crack appearing in the armor.

"She told me what you did. What you've been doing," Mike clenched his teeth, rage pounding in his veins. "How could you do that? Let her get… fucking gang-raped so you could get a good deal? Let people use her like she's nothing? How can you even _pretend_ like you give a shit?"

"Who is this? What is your name, son?"

"Don't call me son!" Mike snarled. "I sure as fuck wouldn't want to be your son after seeing what you did to your daughter." His voice lowered, the hatred pulsating through the phone. "You're not going to get away with this you _bastard_."

There was a cocky laugh and Mike blinked, confused.

"Oh? And who is going to get me in trouble? The police commissioner she let fuck her in the bathroom last month? Or maybe the judge she met last year at the Indy Gala who she gave a handjob to under the table? Oh, perhaps my friend the mayor who's taken advantage of that pretty little mouth—"

"Sh-Shut up!" Mike exploded, not wanting to hear it.

"You can try, but I _own_ this town. Thanks to her," he laughed, "You can't even touch me."

"Then I'm… she won't stay here."

"She won't leave. I'm all she has."

" _Not anymore_ ," he growled, ripping the phone from his ear and then chucking her phone towards the floor full force, watching as it hit the hardwood panels and shattered.

He turned back to the women behind him who were staring at him, stunned. He reached up and tugged at his hair self-consciously. It was rare for him to get so angry, but the way that Brenner had _taunted_ him with the details of her sexual encounters, like he was proud of what he'd made her do… it made him sick.

"S-Sorry, El. I'll have to buy you a new phone…" he said sheepishly.

"Um," she blinked, speechless and too tired to really complain anyways.

"We have to leave. You can't stay here. He's… he has control over _everything_."

"I know," she whispered, and he realized she had known that for a while. No wonder she never said anything, never tried to get help. Who would have been on her side?

Max looked between the two of them, worried.

"Where can we go? I don't… I can't stay here, in this apartment. He probably made her to do… _something_ … for us to able to afford it." She looked around the hallway completely disgusted, as if the walls were made of human flesh. "I-I can't stay here."

"Um… you guys could come stay at my place," Mike suggested but she shook her head.

"I need to stay in Indianapolis, I have clients tomorrow and if I cancel I might lose them. It's just a little too far… but thanks."

Mike frowned at her conundrum, not wanting her to have stay in this damned place. Then an idea popped into his head and he reached for his key ring, keeping one arm around El, who was quiet, listening to them. He held out his keys.

"Here, take the one attached to the One Ring keychain," he told her as she took them from his hands, looking perplexed.

"The what?"

"The One Ring? 'One ring to rule them all and in the darkness bind them?'" he prompted.

She blinked. "Is that a Harry Potter spell or something?"

"No, it's Lord of the—Nevermind, it's the key attached to the keychain with the gold ring on it. Take it off my car keys."

"Why?"

"It's to my buddy Dustin's place, he has a pretty comfy couch bed and he lives not too far from here. I'll text him and let him know what's up. He's one of the chillest people I know, I'm sure he'll let you crash until you figure out where to go."

"But I don't kn—" she started to protest but he cut her off.

"Come on, Max. You aren't afraid of a man, are you?" He challenged her but then softened. "If you trust me, you can trust him. I promise." He watched as she took the key, nodding resolutely and flashing him a grateful look.

"Thanks, Mike."

He was still holding El upright but she was starting to sag against him, like her legs were too tired to keep herself upright. She was still weak, drained from her encounter and the emotions she'd spilled out to Mike in the bath. He managed to get her into her room, sitting her on the bed as she stared on, numbly.

"Max, can you help me pack something for her?" he called, opening her closet and staring at the array of clothing.

There was a distinct pattern, half of it was breezy pastels, soft pinks and blues and yellows, the things he usually saw her in when he would come and visit. The other half was harsh, gaudy reds slashed with black and strange straps that made the outfits look like torture contraptions. He felt his heart break again as he stared at the two different sides of who she was.

Max appeared behind him and they grabbed one of her larger totes and shoved some clothes into it, mostly soft, comfortable things. Mike looked at her from the corner of his eyes and spoke, low enough El wouldn't hear them.

"Why didn't you call the police? Or an ambulance or something?"

"I… I was going to. I had nine-one-one on my phone but she wouldn't let me. She said they wouldn't help, that… that 'Papa' knew already and wouldn't let her go."

Mike nodded. He knew now it wouldn't have made a difference, only traumatized her further, and he sighed, hating that there would be no justice. Max left after they finished packing, heading to her own room and reappearing with her bag, looking worried despite it all.

"So… you're taking her with you?"

"I mean… is that okay?" he asked, suddenly unsure.

"No, yeah… I mean, you'll take care of her. I wouldn't want to leave her alone. And if you need anything, I'll give you my phone number. I can drive out there… any time," she cracked a bit, shoulders sagging. "I think she needs to get out of this city. Away from his control."

"I won't let him near her again, I promise."

"I know, Mike. You're a good person… I hope she realizes that soon."

Max went over and carefully hugged her best friend, telling her she was only a call away if she needed her and then breaking down a bit.

"I'm sorry I never realized what was happening to you," she whispered.

El blinked, eyes soft. "Don't blame yourself, Max. I didn't let you know."

They hugged again and then Max grabbed her keys, making sure she had the One Ring, and left, shutting the apartment door behind her. It was quiet, other than the sound of the traffic on the street below.

"Mike?"

He turned to her, where she was still nestled on her bed.

"Yeah, El?"

"Why did you come back? I… I threw you away. I told you I didn't want you, that you were nothing. Why did you come?" Her eyes were shining with guilt and he crossed the room, sitting down next to her.

"Because I… I care about you El. I _want_ you… not just, not just for sex or whatever, but I want _you_. Your laugh and your smile. I want to argue with you over Star Wars and buy you french fries when you're drunk and give you piggyback rides."

"But _why_? I'm not… worth that."

There was a moment of stillness as the sounds of the cars and the sirens and wind whistling through the skyscrapers faded away. He reached out, his heart pounding, and took her hands, running his fingers across her knuckles. His dark eyes met her light ones and the emotion there, that radiated from him so warmly, took her breath away.

"Because… I love you, El."

He was scared, terrified of what her reaction would be. But he couldn't pretend anymore, pretend that the feeling that filled his stomach and chest every time he saw her was anything but love. Pretend that the need he felt to be near her and take care of her was just some passing phase. That he wasn't utterly captivated by her in every possible way.

She was staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide with disbelief, and then she licked her lips and swallowed thickly, blinking.

"Oh."

But she didn't run, didn't scream and tell him to get out. He didn't expect her to say it back or throw herself at him or burst into tears, but the nonviolent immediate reaction helped to calm his racing heart. He leaned towards, gently kissing her lip and resting his forehead against hers, pulling back so their noses touched and closing his eyes. She let out a long, shuddery breath and then relaxed, letting herself rest against him. Pulling her into his arms again, he tucked her into him, their bodies fitting together perfectly, like they were made for each other.

"We should leave, El. I don't want you to have to stay here… I want you to be safe."

"Okay," she whispered.

He got up, leaving her for a second so he could grab her bag which he threw over his shoulder, and then went back, scooping her up in his arms bridal style. He was no bodybuilder, but she was small enough that even he could carry her, making sure to turn off the lights as he went down the hallway. The apartment that he'd once looked forward to visiting before now felt cold and foreboding, and as he managed to get out the door—making sure not to hit her head on the frame—he shut the door firmly behind him, looking down at her as she curled up in his arms.

He didn't look back.

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _A lot of people seem upset with El for pushing Mike away, and I understand that. But please remember that she doesn't understand that she's worth his attentions and she's trying not to hurt him further. It doesn't make sense, but she's been manipulated her whole life, she's still trying to figure it out. She's a victim, you've got a give her a little time to heal._**

 ** _But if you want to be mad at her I get that too. Hopefully she'll figure it out soon. ;)_**

 ** _Review please! You know the drill by now._**

 ** _~Wyn_**


	9. Chapter 9

**_AN:_**

 ** _Here's something to soothe you guys after the past couple of chapters. I've been listening to "Fear of the Water" by SYML while writing this chapter. I think you guys should give it a listen._**

* * *

It was past midnight when they left and El fell asleep during the drive, curled up in the passenger's seat, swathed in a quilt he always kept in the back of his car. Her face was peaceful and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe.

He was still trying to process everything that had happened. Her revelation in the tub, her fear of rejection, her apparent acceptance of his confession. She'd cried for him in the tub—she'd needed him—and he took solace in the fact that she was no longer pushing him away.

He just wished it hadn't taken something like this for that happen.

Every now and then he'd reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear, his touch feather-soft, and she would sigh in her sleep and press her face into his hand. He finally pulled up to his apartment building, grateful for once that he lived on the first floor and wouldn't have to carry her up any stairs.

"El," he coaxed, gently tracing her face his hand. "We're here. Do you want me to carry you again?"

She shifted, trying to stretch, and then groaned as she strained her bruises and cuts, letting out a whimper. Her eyes opened more widely and she looked around, trying to get her bearings. Reawakening to her situation was tough.

"You live… here?" she asked, eyes bleary.

It was an older complex, a good twenty years old, but the landlord was an old friend of his dad's who had cut him a good deal and understood that payment might not always be on time in the summer due to his teaching job. Compared to her modern, high-rise apartment it seemed like a dump and he bit his lip, feeling insecure.

"Yeah, sorry it's so small…"

"It's okay," she assured him.

He did end up carrying her in, on his back, and then went to straight to his bedroom. There was only one bed, a small twin, but he knew she needed it more than he did. His couch was comfortable enough and after tucking her into his sheets, he grabbed an extra pillow and a blanket and started to walk away. Her small hand reached for his and he looked up.

"No… stay?" her eyes were begging him.

"There's… not a whole of room, El. Are you sure?" He didn't want to crowd her in her delicate state but she shook her head, not wanting to be alone.

"Stay," she insisted.

He didn't argue further, pulling off his pants and shirt and then sliding in the bed as she scooted over, wincing a bit as she leaned on a fresh bruise. It was definitely a tight fit, but she tucked hers back into the front of his body and he put his arm around her waist, holding her close, nuzzling the back of her head with his nose. It felt so right, to have her there, and he sighed, feeling content despite the circumstances.

She was exhausted and fell asleep pretty quickly, her breathing raspy due to her raw throat, and he pulled her just a little bit closer, breathing in her smell and trying to appreciate the moment. If you had told him this would be happening six months ago when they had met, he wouldn't have believed it. But there she was, in his arms. She wanted him there and it made his heart sigh happily.

She wanted him.

* * *

It was a Friday and he decided to cancel everything, not wanting to leave her alone in his apartment while she was still recovering. When he woke up she was still sleeping and he groggily kissed the back of her head before climbing out of the bed. She shifted and muttered something and he smiled, making sure to pull the covers back over her shoulders.

He stretched and then yawned and then shuffled to the bathroom, doing the similar morning routine of peeing and brushing his teeth. She was still sleeping when he got out, so he headed for the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring into it. It was filled with containers of leftovers his mom always gave him, and being a terrible cook, he was grateful for her apparent need to keep him fed even though he'd moved out years ago.

There were some eggs and even though he knew it was a bad idea, he figured he would try and make her breakfast. It was always a toss up when he cooked eggs, sometimes he got it perfect and other times… not even close. He grabbed an apron, another gift from his mom, and put it over his bare chest so he wouldn't get any hot oil on his skin from the pan.

Ten minutes later he was flipping the eggs when her voice startled him.

"Mike?"

He whipped around, still holding the spatula. She was wobbling her way towards him, one hand on the wall for support and he immediately scurried over to her and helped her to sit at the tiny two person table.

"Hey, good morning. Um… how are you feeling?" He cringed, realizing that probably wasn't a good question to ask.

Her neck was no longer red, the bruise turning a wicked shade of purple and splotched with blue, some parts looking almost black. The handprint on her cheek had faded, leaving another bruise along her cheekbone. The bite marks looked the worse and he tried not to let the anger that flared up in him show on his face, focusing on her eyes instead of the marks that covered her body.

She swallowed and winced, trying to pretend like she didn't see him staring.

"Throat hurts," she reached up, placing her fingers over the welts and grimaced. "Everything hurts."

"Do you want some more tea? Or maybe something cold?"

"Tea?"

He put the kettle on and pulled out a mug, one with the batman signal on it and threw in a teabag, picking chamomile since that seemed good for everything. There was a bottle of Advil on the counter—sometimes the kids at school gave him headaches so kept it out—and he shook out a couple, taking them to her with a glass of water.

She took them and he watched, making sure she got them down. Then the smell of something burning filled his nose and he turned around.

"Shit!" he yelped, racing for the stove and pulling the now black eggs off the burner. "Dammit!"

There was a soft, scratchy chuckle from behind him and he looked at her, a rare smile gracing the corner of her mouth. He sheepishly dumped the charred eggs into the sink with a sigh. So much for that.

"Sorry, I'm no Max when it comes to breakfast," he told her. "Um… I have cereal or…" He walked over to the freezer, opening and nodded. "Eggos? Waffles might be a little softer on your throat. I know I have syrup…"

She nodded agreeably, eyebrows quirked in interest.

The kettle whistled and he turned, walking over to the counter and setting the box down next to the toaster before pouring water into the batman mug. He pulled out a container of honey—which he didn't remember buying but was grateful for—and drizzled a generous amount in before taking the cup over to her. Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him and she gave him a grateful smile.

He made the Eggos next, tossing them into the toaster and pulling a pat of butter from the fridge before swiping the syrup out of the cupboard. The toaster waffles ended up being his breakfast more often than not, that or Reese's Puffs. He chastised himself again for not being a better cook before grabbing the plate of buttered, syrup covered Eggos and walking back to the table.

"Here, El," he set them in front of her, "you're probably hungry, huh?"

She didn't say anything, tearing into the waffles and sighing happily as an answer. He couldn't help but smile at her and then got up again to make himself some breakfast too. They ate in silence as she sipped her tea, waiting for the medication to start working so her throat didn't hurt as bad. She must have been feeling better because she set her mug down and looked across the table at him.

"Mike?"

"Yeah, El?"

"Can… can I take a shower?"

"Well, yeah, if you want."

Her eyes still had black rings around them, like Max had tried to scrub the makeup off but was too worried about the cuts to pay close attention and he understood her wanting to wash everything off. The bath last night had helped washed the blood off, but she hadn't actually _bathed_.

"Can you… help me?" She asked, looking embarrassed.

"Of course."

He showed her to the small bathroom with it's tub shower and miniscule sink, setting her on the lid of the toilet before going and looking for a spare towel in the closet in the hallway. It was rare for him to have guests, since Lucas and Dustin usually just stayed with their parents when they visited Hawkins anyways. The water in the bathroom turned on and he turned his head in surprise, quickly snatching a clean, blue towel and hurrying back to the bathroom.

She was naked when he walked in and he almost backed out of the room before shaking his head. He'd seen her naked before… plenty of times. No need to get freaked out now. From behind he could see the scratches that went down her back, and the bruises on her butt too. Whoever she'd been sent to had just _destroyed_ her and his heart tugged painfully at the reminder of what she'd went through.

"Um, did you still need help? I got you a towel…" he trailed off as she turned around, one hand gripping the towel rack, looking unsteady.

"I… I can't stand," she whined, reaching one hand for him.

He was there in instant, dropping the towel onto the toilet and holding her up, helping her to step into the tub. Pulling the apron off he got in with her, not bothering taking off his boxers, figuring he wasn't the one who needed the shower anyways.

He stood behind her and she leaned back against him, hissing in pain as the hot water hit her cuts and it stung. She adjusted soon enough, and Mike grabbed his bar of soap, realizing she wouldn't able to lather herself up while she was holding on for dear life. He rubbed the bar of soap between his hands and then began to run his hands up and down her body, sudsing her up.

It was impossible to pretend like he wasn't getting turned on, his hands trailing across her stomach and then up, making sure to get soap all over her body. She was leaning against him still but turned, confused, glancing down as something poked her in the back. His boxers were tenting out in front of him and she seemed surprised for a second.

"S-Sorry," he felt painfully embarrassed. "I… you're just really beautiful. Don't worry about it."

"But…" she turned to face him all the way, her hands on his waistband, tugging. "You're… I could—"

"No, El," he grabbed her hands, pulling them up. "You need to heal. I'll… be fine."

"But won't it like… hurt?"

"Like… blue balls? Um… sometimes. But you don't have to worry about that, okay? Just because you're naked and beautiful and in front of me doesn't mean it's your problem. I don't expect that from you."

"Oh…" she seemed puzzled. That sort of thing was always her problem. "Okay."

He helped her wash her hair next, trying to be gentle and not yank on her neck, running his fingers through her hair. She sighed, enjoying the feeling and he smiled to himself. By the the time they were done he'd calmed down and they stepped out of the shower. She managed to wrap the towel around herself, sitting on the toilet to rest after the exertion of standing for so long. He looked at her, a towel around his own waist.

"So… do you want to go back to bed? Or I could put you on the couch, that's comfy too… we could always watch a movie or something."

"Don't you have to work?" she asked, confused.

"Nah, I called in sick so I can stay home. I'm all yours today," he grinned.

She tried to smile but he could sense the guilt behind it and quickly reassured her.

"Don't worry, El. I hardly ever call in sick, I deserve a few days. And hey, at least I'm not actually sick. I get to just hang out with you. If you're not feeling better by Monday, I can just have a four day weekend. It'll be great," he tried to convince her.

"Okay," she nodded but still looked guilty.

They did end up on the couch, her leaning back against him, sitting between his legs as he flipped through the channels lazily. Some network was playing all the Marvel movies and they settled in as Captain America started, Mike looking down occasionally and just watching her. She was dozing again, resting as her body healed, and he pulled the blanket up higher, making sure she was warm.

His heart felt full.

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _We're close now. I'm pretty sure this story will have 11 chapters (not intentional honestly) and then an epilogue. I'm editing up the next chapter right now, it's... smut again, a bit of an apology I suppose. Hope that isn't a spoiler._**

 ** _Leave me a review and let me know if you're still mad at me. And remember, El's still hurting._**

 ** _~Wyn_**


	10. Chapter 10

**_AN:_**

 ** _Okay so this chapter is stupidly long but there wasn't really any good place to split it equally. Just be aware of that. Like I said, there's smut in this so again, if you're not into that this is your warning._**

 ** _Please don't hate me._**

* * *

The next few days passed by as El slowly regained her strength, the cuts scabbing over, the bruises lightening slightly and becoming less tender. She wasn't shaky anymore and could walk by herself, but he liked following close behind just to make sure.

He ended up calling in sick on Monday, and then Tuesday, convincing everyone he had the worst kind of flu. In reality he spent the time caring for El, feeding her his mom's leftovers and watching movies while they cuddled. Most of the time he held her, but occasionally she would sit up and he would lay his head in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked his shaggy black hair. He fell asleep like that once, only waking up when she shifted because her legs had fallen asleep.

Max helped too. Mike lent El his phone and the two women talked for hours. She hadn't made it to Hawkins yet due to her booked weekend, but El mentioned to him that she thought Dustin was hysterical and was enjoying her time at his house as a temporary roommate. Maybe something good would come from that at least.

The vibrant, happy El that had dazzled Mike from the beginning was slowly coming back, though she still struggled, sometimes staring off into space until he roused her. She'd had a nightmare one night, waking up sobbing and he'd held her until she fell back asleep, whispering reassurances.

Mike noticed El still seemed a little distant, figuring she was still trying to come to terms with what had happened to her and what he had confessed. There were a lot of emotions and he made peace with the fact that it might take her a while to be able to even start to sort through them. She was flourishing under his loving watch, though there was a still a shadow that haunted her eyes. He wasn't sure what it was, but hoped she would open up enough to tell him. Caring for her made him feel invincible, but the darkness she held onto made him nervous. What was it that was still bringing her down? She was safe here, away from her father's clutches, and most of the time she laughed and cuddled like nothing was wrong. But Mike knew better.

On Tuesday he'd started to feel a little stir-crazy after being cooped up in the apartment so long, and left her long enough to drive out and pick up some food. He still felt weird leaving her alone, unsure of how she would handle it, but she was in the kitchen when he got home, getting herself a glass of water. He set the bag on the counter and came up behind her, pulling her to him and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. She'd run out of clothes on Sunday and was currently in one of his oversized shirts and her last pair of clean underwear and he appreciated how she looked wearing his clothes.

"Hey," she'd put her hands over his and leaned back. "What smells so good? It's food, right?"

Her voice had returned after the first few days and while she was still on the quieter side it made him happy to be able to hear her again.

"Well, fry-queen, I figured it was time that you tried Hawkin's finest finger food," he let her go and pulled open the white paper bag with a flourish. "Ta da! Benny's Burgers' fries, in every flavor they sell."

She looked shocked for a second before busting out into laughter, holding her stomach as she shook, having to lean against the counter for support. He pouted, feeling a bit hurt.

"What's so funny? I brought you food. You _love_ food."

"No, you're—" she chortled again, wiping at her eyes, "You're fine, I just… when you sent me that text back in March… I scoffed. I never thought I'd actually be here eating these fries…"

He snickered and reached for her, pulling her close again and playfully tickling her sides as she squirmed away, giggling.

"Only the best fries for the fry-queen," he grinned.

She was blinking up at him, some unreadable emotion in her eyes, her hands resting on his chest. There was something there, something on the tip of her tongue, but she looked down, suddenly shy and stepped back. Mike cleared his throat, feeling strangely disappointed.

"So do I get to try the fries?" she teased and he relaxed.

"Of course, here."

They opened the bag and pulled out several cylindrical cups of fries, setting them on the counter and then digging in. El jumped up, sitting on the counter while Mike leaned next to her, both tearing into the fries like they hadn't eaten days. She stuffed the fries into her mouth, moaning loudly as she tried each flavor, making Mike laugh. It was like when they first met and she embarrassed him in Wendy's. He remembered something, a question he'd meant to ask months ago but always forgot.

"Hey, so… why do people call you Eleven?" he asked, turning to face her.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I never told you that story?"

"Nope."

"Oh, well, it's kind of depressing but…" she leaned back, resting her head against the cabinets, looking off distantly. "When I was little, I lived in this kind of… group home. For orphans no one wanted to foster. It was… bad there. I hated it," she bit her lip, "but when I turned five I got a present, this little Timex watch. It was pink and blue with butterflies on the strap. And when I went to school, someone mentioned 11:11, and how you were supposed to make a wish. So after that, any time it was 11:11 I would stop whatever I was doing and wish and wish and _wish_ with all my heart for the entire minute. Even if I was at school or in bed or wherever. And people noticed how I would freeze up and close my eyes and started teasing me about it…" she paused, looking thoughtful, "I don't remember exactly who started calling me Eleven, but I think was eight or nine. It was right before Papa adopted me, but I would still wish after that, all the way through high school."

She had that shadow on her face again and Mike looked at her, curious.

"For what?"

"Hm?" She stuffed some more fries in her mouth, trying not to be noticeably grim.

"What did you wish for?"

She looked more sober, setting the plate down next to her.

"Oh, well… when I was little I wished to be adopted. I wanted a family and someone who loved me. And after it happened I started wishing to be good at something, to make my—to make _him_ proud, you know? That was my longest wish, until a few years ago. After that one came true…" she trailed off like she didn't want to finish the sentence.

"And then what?"

"Then… I stopped wishing. Because my wishes were… twisted. They came true but not… not the way I wanted." She stared down at her hands, thumb rubbing the rope burns on her wrists, emphasizing her words. "But I kept the name, so I could be different from… Jane."

Her eyes were distant again and he quickly moved in front of her, knowing she would lose herself to the pain and the memories if he didn't do something. So he pulled her towards him, to the edge of the counter, and kissed her, pouring in every ounce of love he felt in his heart. Her whole body sighed and then her hands were cupping his face, her legs moving to wrap around his waist. He pulled back, cautious.

"El, you're still healing we shouldn't—"

She interrupted him with another kiss, this one more passionate, almost desperate and he felt his resolve melting. But he tried to pull back once again, afraid he might hurt her if they were intimate, unsure if she was ready. Her bruises were still purple and blue and tender, but she didn't notice, pulling him closer.

"El…" he protested weakly, closing his eyes as she ran her hand along the waistband of his jeans.

"Mike," she answered, knowing she was winning.

She reached for his hands, placing them on the tops of her thighs and moving them up, under the over-sized shirt she was wearing, until they were on her hips. Their eyes met and there was that unreadable emotion in her eyes again, coupled with something he could only describe as need.

"Mike I…" she swallowed, voice thick. "I need you to touch me."

"But—"

"I need you to love me. _Please_."

Her voice broke and then he was pulling her to him, her words shattering his hesitation. She _needed_ him, needed him to _love_ her, to remind her that not everything intimate had to be cold or emotionless or full of pain. It was all she'd known for so long, and now she was asking him to show her, again, what sex could be.

He was extra gentle, trying to avoid the bruises, his kisses on her neck so soft they felt like whispers, but she sighed and leaned into them. Her hands were reaching for his shirt and he pulled it over his head, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. She was next, pulling the baggy shirt up and over her head.

He figured out pretty quickly that she hadn't been wearing a bra underneath, and he gathered her into his arms, pressing their chests together and shuddering at the feeling of her smooth skin against his. She reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair and and pulling his face to hers, their lips meeting in a fiery explosion that filled the air around them with heat, their hands scorching trails up and down each other's bodies.

"El," he groaned, pressing his hips against hers.

She could feel how hard he was, his jeans straining to hold him in. The countertop was digging into the back of her thighs and she squirmed, pushing against his chest until he stepped back and she could hop down. Her hand grabbed his and she pulled him out of the kitchen, towards his bedroom. He followed, his hands on her waist, and then they were on the small bed, frantically shedding the last of their clothes.

Mike looked down at her, completely bare beneath him, trying not to see the marks that marred her body from knee to neck and see the person underneath. But they were a part of who she was too and he realized he needed to love them too, to show her there was nothing she could do that would change his mind.

She reached up, cupping his face in her hand and he turned his head, kissing her palm. Then he kissed her wrist, taking her arm in his hand and oh so gently pressing kisses to each and every cut and bruise that peppered her skin, making sure both arms were covered.. He moved, lower, to the ones on her chest and breasts, then down to her thighs, kissing the bite marks so tenderly she shivered. It was like he was trying to heal each one with his love, trying to take the pain of what she'd gone through and pull it into himself.

He moved up her leg, to her inner thigh, before pressing a kiss to her heated core, making her gasp. She had been looking down at him but as he pressed his mouth to her again she fell back, unused to the sensation, letting out another gasp of surprise. He took it as a positive sign and began to lap at her with his tongue, listening to the sounds she made and continuing what made her whimper in approval. Her hand went down as he continued to eat her out, gripping at his hair and pulling him closer.

"Miiiiiiike," she whined impatiently.

He pulled back and licked his lips, catching his breath, and then crawled back over her, going for her neck, where the bruising was the worst, where someone had nearly choked the life out of her. His lips were so light they almost tickled and he made sure to kiss every mark there too. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought him to her mouth, lifting her hips up to meet his.

The ground against each other and Mike groaned, tucking his face into her neck. He didn't understand what he'd done to deserve this kind of absolution, this utter joy and calm that filled him as she pressed her body to his, but he didn't question it, smoothing his hand through her hair and then cupping her cheek in his, thumb stroking the edge of her lip.

"You're perfect," he kissed her lips, "absolutely breathtaking."

"Mike," she whimpered, her hips meeting his again.

He knew what she was asking for and though he was hesitant, he couldn't refuse her, couldn't say no to that sweet voice whispering his name. He reached down to line himself up and pushed just the tip into her as she eagerly bucked her hips. There was that quiet desperation in her eyes again but he didn't give in, knowing she deserved for it to be slow, for it be more than just sex.

He wanted to make love to her.

His hands reached for hers, intertwining their fingers together as he pushed forward, joining them together completely. They moaned in symphony as he slowly pushed all the way in, being oh so careful with her battered and bruised body.

" _Mike_ ," she breathed, gazing up into his eyes.

He stared back, squeezing his hands in hers as a reassurance that he was there, that he heard her and that he _felt_ her.

"El," he moved his hips once, closing his eyes as he lost himself to her, then moving again, each stroke careful, tender, loving.

She squeezed his hips with her legs, encouraging him, and he sped up just the barest amount, not wanting to rush things, wanting to feel everything, wanting _her_ to feel everything. He was giving her everything again, offering his soul as he moved within her, pressing kisses to her neck and cheeks and forehead. She began to move her hips with his, meeting him stroke for stroke and he groaned at the feeling. She was perfect, exquisite, beautiful, sheer perfection in a person and he marveled at his ability to be allowed so close.

"El," he whispered and she opened her eyes, panting but meeting his stare.

Her eyes were soft, the shadow gone, filled with the emotion that was spilling out of him now. He couldn't hold it in anymore, what he'd already told her, what he was feeling so intensely now.

"I love you, El," he gasped, "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

He repeated it like a mantra as he moved his hips faster, the sensation becoming overwhelming as intense pleasure radiated through their bodies from where they were joined. It was the same as the times before but different—some feeling, some unknown presence surrounding them as they moved _together_ , her hands squeezing his fingers as she panted and keened, his name the only word on her tongue.

"I love you, El," he told her again and she leaned up to press a kiss to his lips before falling back, staring up at him.

Her mouth opened as their eyes met and the fire they'd been building together reached a flashpoint, their bodies joined in ultimate ecstasy as she tightened around him, something bubbling up her throat, a cry, a sentence that she'd been holding in for so long, unsure of what it really meant. Her vision flashed white and the words came as she did, a gasp that choked her throat.

" _Mike_. Mike, I _love_ you," she cried, clutching him to her tightly as she shuddered beneath him.

Fireworks exploded around them and his heart swelled as he spilled into her, gasping and burying his face into her hair, breathing her in. The reality of what she'd said settled in and he felt an intense joy radiate from the very core of his being.

He pulled back, releasing her hands to cup one of her cheeks, and looked at her.

"I love you too, El," his eyes were suddenly full of tears and he flopped off of her and onto his side, pulling her to his chest and covering her face with kisses. "I love you so much."

There were tears in her eyes too, tears of relief and she reached up to cover her face with her hands, hardly able to handle the emotions racing inside of her.

He watched as she accepted it, the thing that had been growing between them for months, since the first time she'd invited him in. The first time she'd welcomed a stranger into her bed and they'd made love instead of someone using her body for their gain. She hadn't known it at the time, that the kind man at the nightclub who made her burn would change her life in such a simple way, but looking up at him now, she knew what she'd been feeling. What she had been running from, believing it to be impossible… incomprehensible even.

But here they were, chest to chest, breathing together, wiping the tears from each other's faces, his skin warm against her. She felt his heartbeat under her hand, felt that he was real and visceral and _loving_ her right in that moment.

It was too good to be true and she basked in the glow of his affection, unable to understand how it was possible, how he could possibly love her. But he kept whispering it to her, his legs tangled with hers, his heart holding hers like he held her now, careful of the bruises.

"Thank you, El."

She looked up at him, brow furrowed.

"For what?"

"For letting me love you."

The exhaustion set in and she felt his warm breath on her forehead, slowing until he was asleep, arms still holding her tightly. She looked up, trying to count the freckles that smattered his cheeks like a starry night sky. He was perfection, truly, sharing with her his faultlessness and goodness and never asking for more than she could give.

Fear coiled in her belly, crawling up her throat.

What was she doing? She couldn't do this to him, make him give up his good life for her. He loved her but… what if she couldn't be enough? He deserved the world and everything good in it. How could she tarnish his life by being selfish when he could have so much more than her.

It had been tearing her apart since the night they first. He was so kind, such a gentleman. One of the rare "good ones" you heard stories about but so rarely met. He made her heart beat faster made the butterflies tickle her stomach, made her _want_ him. Part of her deep down, knew she needed him. Why else would she have kept inviting him back? Letting him creep into her life step by step, slowly warming up her ice as the months went by.

He was… pure. Not just the virgin thing—though she felt that added something to it—but he had a good heart, the type of guy to rescue the box of kittens and walk the old lady across the street, but not to play some part or gain something… but because he wanted to. And he shared his goodness with her, his arms as open as his heart, bringing her cupcakes and funny fridge magnets and little things that made her laugh.

And she was poisoning him.

Everytime he touched her, came to visit her, slept with her… she felt like he took in part of her darkness. And it was her fault because she _let_ him back in. She was the one who said "yes" when he asked to see her, the one who encouraged him, the one who reached for his zipper with hungry hands.

Why hadn't she kept him out? Why hadn't she told him no after the first time? Why hadn't she let it just be a one night stand?

 _Because you love him_ , something deep inside whispered.

And when she loved something… she ran.

When she was a child the home she lived in had taken a rare trip to the city zoo, an expansive thing with several buildings and displays of animals. She'd wandered off against orders, ending up in the aviary. It was like a giant cage, filled with a myriad of birds that flew around her head and squawked in the trees.

She'd walked along the path, startling as she came across two women on a bench and hiding back behind a bush, curling into a ball and staring up at the large metal net that kept the birds in, afraid she'd get caught away from her group.

One of the women was crying, the other trying to give advice. Tiny El had watched a small white bird land in front of her as if it was watching her. With shaky hands she'd pulled out a half-eaten granola bar and threw some crumbs onto the ground, watching as the white bird had hopped closer, still wary, and then pecked at her humble offerings. She'd smiled with delight—she'd made a friend—and then watched as it flew towards the sky.

But the net was in the way and it mercilessly beat itself against it, trying to escape.

Behind her one of the women said had something, something completely irrelevant to little El's life and yet oddly fitting.

"If you really love him, you have to let him go. If you don't let go you'll only hurt both of you worse. If he's the one… he'll come back. But now you've got to let go."

She'd watched the bird trying to escape, and promised that if she ever loved something that beautiful, she would always let it go. So all her life she let them go, the people she started to care about, not wanting to tie them down to her and make them suffer. It was easier to be lonely than guilty.

Her one exception had been Max, who didn't _let_ her let go. She'd hung on tighter than anyone before and El was still grateful for it, knowing she might not have made it as far as she did without her. And she hadn't even let herself be honest with Max. Not completely.

But to do this to Mike… she couldn't. He wouldn't keep his distance at all if she let him anywhere near and it wasn't fair to let her darkness consume them both.

There wasn't anywhere else to go but back to Papa, but she knew she couldn't stay, couldn't keep letting him give her everything while the black hole in her heart sucked him dry. He deserved better, someone who could love him back equally, who was sweet and innocent and kind and everything she wasn't. He needed someone who wasn't her.

Every piece of her was breaking, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces, but she scooted back, out of his arms, trying to get out of the bed.

"Whazz..." he snorted awake, just barely, and squeezed her. "El?"

"I've… I need to pee, Mike," she whispered, hating the lie, hating that she was lying to him.

"Mmmmmnno… cozy," he protested as he snuggled into her and she almost laughed through the tears that were filling her eyes.

"I'm too old to wet the bed."

He humphed but released her and she slid out of his arms, standing up and looking down at him as he drifted back to sleep.

 _I love him. I have to let him go. He'll find someone who deserves him. Someone whole. And he'll be happy. Please,_ she begged every force in the universe as he stared down at his star-speckled face, relaxed in his sleep. _Please let him be happy_.

She leaned down, pressed a whisper-soft kiss to his temple, a single tear dripping from her eye and landing in the palm of his upturned hand as she pulled away. A piece of her broken heart that she would always leave with him.

"I love you, Mike," she murmured. "I love you."

And then she retreated, packing her scattered belongings and putting her clothes back on and trying to ignore the splintering feeling. His phone was charging in the kitchen but before she picked it up she grabbed a napkin, still stained with fry grease, and a pen off the counter, trying to write him a goodbye that would tell him just how grateful she was. Then she grabbed his phone, dialed the familiar number and listened to it ring. The line picked up but there was no answer and with a heavy sigh she greeted the man she knew was on the other side.

"Hello, Papa."

"Jane," he replied coldly.

"I-I… I'm coming back."

"Did that _boy_ ," there no hiding the disgust in his voice, "finally tire of you too?"

"No I—it's my choice. I'm… leaving him," she fought to keep the tears from her tone. "C-Can you send a car? The address is—"

"I know where you are, Jane. I've known about Mike Wheeler since he left that hickey on your neck six months ago."

She felt her blood run cold.

"Wh-What?"

"You think I don't keep tabs on your affairs? This one lasted longer than I anticipated but I'm glad you've seen the light."

"You… know where he lives?"

"Really, Jane," he sniffed, sounding annoyed, "I know everything. I would have come and picked you up days ago but I'm afraid the chief of police there is rather… hardheaded. I was working a few of his deputies but even they were reluctant… small town bumpkin loyalties, I suppose."

The implication that he was going to have Mike arrested through bribery just to get her back cemented her decision. She had to protect him. She couldn't let Papa hurt him too. He didn't need to pay for her sins, she wouldn't let him this time.

"I can have a car there in fifteen minutes, Jane. I assume you're ready now?"

He sounded smug, knowing what her answer would be and she felt an intense, hot feeling flush her face and fill her body. Something she hadn't felt before… not directed at Papa at least.

She _hated_ him.

She'd always hated the men he sent to her, for being okay with what they did to her, for not helping her, for helping _him_ instead. But never him. Sure, she'd been mad, she knew he was absolute asshole and a terrible person… but she could never bring herself to hate him. She had needed him to love her, to be proud and tell her she was good.

But she didn't need him anymore.

Clenching her teeth, she took a deep breath, trying to remember what he'd said about Mike, about what he would do to him. No matter what happened to her after this, she would keep him safe, like he'd kept her safe. Because she _loved_ him.

She bolstered herself and spoke, jaw clenched tightly.

"Yes, Papa."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **I'M SORRY.**_

 _ **I'll try and get this next chapter done as soon as possible. I really hope you all were able to understand her and not just think she's messing with Mike. Some people don't understand what unconditional love is, I think El is one of them. The story is almost over, I hope you've all enjoyed it (as well as possible) so far.**_

 _ **Also thank to all of those who leave such sweet reviews. I truly, truly appreciate your support and comments, they motivate me SO much to keep going.**_

 _ **So yeah, feel free to be pissed off at me. I deserve it this time.**_

 _ **~Wyn**_


	11. Chapter 11

**_AN:_**

 ** _OKAY SO I APOLOGIZE BECAUSE I'M A LIAR SORT OF._**

 ** _This isn't the final chapter and I'm going to explain why really quickly._**

 ** _I've had the final scene of this story in my head since I started writing it and I keep underestimating how much it's going to take to get there. Basically... this plot got a lot more complicated than I had anticipated and in order for me to feel happy with it I have to lengthen it out. I don't want to cut corners just to get to the ending more quickly. And I apologize for that._**

 ** _So without further ado, I present the SECOND to last chapter._**

* * *

Mike woke up suddenly, jolting a bit, and then reached for El, wanting to tuck her back into his chest and fall back asleep for awhile longer.

His hand met emptiness and he rolled over, squinting, in the late morning sun. He was alone in the bed and he frowned, noticing the sheets where she'd been were cold.

"El?"

His voice echoed in the quiet apartment and he felt a spike of fear pierce his heart. Maybe she was in the bathroom? He scrambled out of the bed, almost tripping, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He walked out of the bedroom, glancing at the empty bathroom and then walking through the living room to the kitchen.

She wasn't there. Anywhere.

His heart hit the floor and he found his phone on the counter, finding the contact that was his only guess and hitting call.

"Mike?"

"Max?! Is El with you?!"

"What?" Her voice took on a worried tone. "No… she's with you."

"No I—She's not, I just woke up and…"

He trailed off as he spotted the napkin, her familiar scrawl spelling out his name. Picking it up he set the phone down, eyes hungry as he read the note.

 _Mike,_

 _Thank you for being so good to me. I'm sorry but I have to go back. I want you to know it's not your fault, you did nothing wrong. You deserve so much more than me. You deserve to be happy._

 _I promise not to forget what you showed me. I promise not to let someone in again like I did with you. I won't ever forget you, but I hope you forget me._

 _I don't expect you to forgive me, but please know I meant what I said last night._

 _I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry._

 _Goodbye, Mike._

He felt tears well up in his eyes as he realized what she'd done. Max was still shouting from the phone and he put it back to his ear, trying to hold in the sob that was bubbling up.

"S-She left," he told her.

"What? Where did she go? How do you know?" Max sounded frantic.

"There's a note… she went back. To _him_. She wants me to forget her…"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Max's voice faded away again as she yelled for Dustin and Mike collapsed into the nearest chair, trying to process what was happening. His eyes read the note over and over until it fogged into gibberish, the tears blurring the letters.

She'd pushed him away _again_. He didn't understand why, why she couldn't accept that he loved her? That he wanted to be with her? That _she_ made him happy? He knew there was something dark and twisted that lived inside of her, the result of her past and the struggles she'd faced, but he had thought that after last night she'd been able to break away.

"Mike! Are you still there?"

It was Dustin's voice this time and he put the phone back up to his ear.

"Yeah," he croaked.

"Stay put, we're coming to you. Don't… don't do anything _stupid_ , okay? I know you want to go charging after her, but we need to figure out where she _is_ first."

"She went back. To her dad."

"Is that bad? Usually dads are—" Dustin's voice cut off as Max said something in the background and then he came back. "Okay, fuck, um… just sit tight. Drink some water or something but _don't leave without us_."

"Okay. I won't."

The line went dead and Mike stared at the phone in his hands blankly. He couldn't even try calling her after he'd smashed her phone and he felt like punching himself in the face for being so irrational.

Dustin was right, he could go straight for Indianapolis and bust into Brenner's office, but that wouldn't do any good if he didn't know where she was. But sitting here doing nothing felt just as useless and he stood, pacing back and forth in the small kitchen. The counter was still covered in the fry containers, their clothes still scattered on the ground.

Her presence was still there, hanging around him like a ghost and suddenly he was angry. The bitterness from being pushed away for so long, the anger at letting those men use her, the jealousy of knowing she'd left his arms some nights to go to theirs was suddenly bursting out of him.

"Fuck!" He screamed, grabbing the empty containers and throwing them at the flower, eyes blinded by rage. His hands grabbed everything on the counter, the dirty dishes, the clean dishes, the toaster, and slammed them down, kicking them across the floor.

 _She left me. She left me for him. She left me for_ him _._

He was panting, staring around the now-wrecked kitchen, and then the pain the hit and he slid down the cabinets, sitting on the floor and sobbing into his hands. The words in her note came back and he tried to understand what she had been thinking.

" _It's not your fault. You deserve to be happy. I hope you forget me."_

How was he supposed to just _forget_ her? Forget her big brown eyes with their hazel speckles, the way her mouth curved up into a smirk when he did something stupid, the way she said his name as he covered her with kisses. He was supposed to just _forget_?

" _I meant what I said last night._ "

He didn't want to think about last night because he knew it would hurt too much. She'd asked him to touch her, to _love_ her, and he'd complied, trying to show her what she'd needed to feel. He could still see her, lying beneath him and panting, her eyes wide and honest as she finally cried out those words for him.

" _Mike, I love you."_

He felt numb. Last night had been… everything. He'd thought that everything had finally come together, that she had accepted what she meant to him. That she was finally ready to accept what he meant to her. When those words had left her mouth he thought the battle was finally over… that she was his.

But obviously he'd been blissfully unaware of just how deep her self-loathing ran. Despite everything he'd showed and her sudden revelation… she still hadn't been able to accept him and what he wanted for her. What he wanted for them.

It seemed like mere minutes as he swirled through the vortex of pain, the tears slowing and then stopping as he sat on the kitchen floor and stared at the note in his hands. Rereading it and trying to pretend like she was coming back, like it said something other than goodbye. His chest physically _hurt_ , like something was being pulled out of it and he swallowed.

 _Bang!_

"Mike!"

The door wasn't locked and Dustin and Max burst in, like some sort of bizarre team, looking around the apartment. Dustin spotted Mike first and let out a gasp. He'd seen his friend sad plenty of times, but never like this. Plopping down next to him, he put an arm around Mike's shoulder and tried to give him an encompassing hug.

"Hey, buddy, you… um, you okay?"

"Of course he's not okay," Max snapped as she found them, walking over and crouching down in front of Mike, grabbing his hands. "Does he fucking _look_ okay?"

"Well I thought it would be polite to _ask_ —"

Mike blinked, bringing Max's worried face into focus.

"S-She left," he choked out.

A fresh wave of tears came and then Dustin was pulling him sideways, hugging him around his neck as he sobbed again, his whole body shaking. Max gave Dustin a worried look and after a few minutes he pulled his friend off of him.

"Mike… what happened? Did she say why? And do you know for sure she went back?"

He held out the napkin as an answer and Max took it, reading it carefully, face puckered into a worried frown. She sighed heavily and then handed it to Dustin who scanned it too.

"She _said_ she went back," Max bit her lip, "because he deserves someone better. God damn it… she's doing that thing again where she just… drops people. I'm sorry, Mike."

"What does 'I meant what I said last night' mean?" Dustin asked, curiously.

Mike swallowed. "She told me she loved me."

"No she did not," Max gaped and Dustin gave her a shove.

"Don't be rude, Maxine—"

"That's not even my real name!" She snapped back.

Despite his rather numb state, Mike glanced between the two, wondering how they were such good friends already.

"She said it. We were…" he trailed off, turning red and they got the point. "I fell asleep and… I think I woke up because she had to get up and pee and then…"

"And then you woke up this morning and she was gone?"

"Y-Yeah," he said quietly.

It was silent as the three tried to figure out what to do.

"Can we go to the police? I mean… she's basically a captive."

"What are they going to do? She's in Indy, Dustin."

"I dunno, we could find out if there's something we _could_ do," he shrugged.

"That's… a fair point. Why don't we do that, Mike?" Max tugged his hand and he blinked, still numb.

"Yeah, okay."

They managed to get him into some actual clothes and picked up a cup of coffee on the way over to the police station. The receptionist there told them the chief was in his office if they wanted to ask his opinion but that she couldn't do anything for them since it was out of their jurisdiction. Dustin led them to the office and a balding, older man with grizzled beard and a shrewd gaze was sitting, drinking a cup of coffee out of a mug that said "contemplate".

"Hey, Chief Hopper, we were wondering if we could ask you some questions…" Dustin started.

After a semi-brief explanation, mostly supplied by Max, the older man looked at three young adults in his room and blinked.

"So she was at Wheeler's and then she disappeared?" he asked, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"Yeah, um, she left a note…"

"Well, if she left willingly there's not much I can do for you. Especially if she's in Indianapolis now… what'd you say her dad's name was?"

"Brenner. Martin Brenner," Mike spoke up for the first time and they all looked at him, surprised.

The Chief nodded.

"I thought something about this seemed familiar. A few days ago I got a call from some shady sounding businessman. Basically told me that if I agreed to take the next case that hit my desk, I would make some extra money. Next thing I know Flo walks in holding some file transferred from the Indy Police Commissioner. Some drug bust and missing persons case," he turned his head to look at Mike. "You were the supposed perpetrator."

Mike felt dumbfounded. " _What?_ "

"That's what I said after I had a good laugh. I remember you hanging around Hawkins throughout the years. You've never exactly been the type... let's just say I was struggling to believe you would turn from teaching chemistry to cooking meth. I tossed it into the garbage." Hopper furrowed his brow. "Now it makes sense… if he's got an in with the police commissioner he's basically untouchable out there."

Mike felt his heart pounding in his temples. Had she known about? Was that part of the reason she had left? Because Brenner had threatened him? But she hadn't talked to him since… before Mike had brought her to Hawkins. He frowned, wondering how she'd contacted him and then pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the recent calls.

"You guys I—"

He held up the phone and then tapped it so it started calling. There was a click as someone answered, but whoever was on the other line was silent and some desperate hope filled his chest.

"El?" His voice cracked.

The voice that answered was oil, thick and suffocating and definitely not El.

"If you're referring to Jane, I'm afraid she's rather busy at the moment. Her… vacation this weekend caused her to miss out on quite a lot of work. She's prepping for the gala tonight, so I sent her to the spa," Brenner sounded smug and Mike bit his cheek.

"Don't you fucking dare make her do that again you son of a bitch!"

"Watch your language, Michael Wheeler. You're not doing yourself any favors."

"I don't want your favors. Just let her go."

"She came to me, Michael. I suggest _you_ be the one to let her go."

"I'm gonna break your fucking nose you assh—"

"As fun as this chat has been, I'm a busy man. Don't bother calling again. From what I understand she doesn't _want_ to talk to you anymore."

The line went dead and Mike barely kept himself from chucking the phone again, slamming it into his lap instead. He growled angrily and punched his leg, immediately wincing and rubbing his fist. "Ow, fuck."

"Who was… was that Brenner?" Hopper asked, eyebrows raised. Mike nodded and the older man sighed. "Look, Wheeler, I want to help, I do, but I can't. It's out of my jurisdiction and there's dirty cops involved. But—" He looked at the three, eyes serious. "If you can get her back in Hawkins, I swear I'll keep her safe if I have to stand outside your house with a shotgun myself."

It was the best he could do and they—mainly Dustin—thanked the chief for his help, walking out to the car and slumping inside. Max looked at Mike, biting her lip.

"So what do you want to do, Mike? I… I don't know if she'll talk to me anymore now either… since I know the truth." She swallowed, not wanting to say it but knowing it needed to be said. "And I don't… she's not coming back this time."

Mike stared out the window, hearing her but unsure of how to reply.

He was tired. Tired of trying, tired of hurting, tired of always being shoved away. His heart was sore from beating so hard against his ribs and he just wanted to go to bed for a week to try and forget everything. This was the third time she'd hurt him and he was struggling to hold the broken pieces together this time.

" _I will_ never _stop wanting you!"_

He'd said those words, eyes full of tears as she'd turned away and told him to leave. And he hadn't stopped. Even now his heart beat for her, his arms longed to hold her, his eyes longed to see her. Part of him felt like it was missing and he realized there would never be a point where he would be okay with that.

" _I hope you forget me_."

He couldn't. He wouldn't. He'd sat around the past six months, hoping she would let him in, but now she needed him to _fight_. Something about the situation still felt off and he knew he'd never forgive himself if he didn't try just one more time. If she really didn't want him, if she really didn't _love_ him… he wanted to hear it from her himself, not scribbled on a greasy napkin. He could accept if she really didn't want him—as much as it would hurt—if she could look him in the eyes and tell him.

He cleared his throat and turned to his friends, feeling grateful for their endless support. He felt there eyes on him and he let out a small sigh, setting his jaw and nodding.

"Well if she's not coming back… I guess we're going to have to go and get her."

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _If you don't think there's going to be a happy ending you're damn wrong. I apologize if the last plot twist pissed you off but I'm really trying to make this good. Or at least worth finishing._**

 ** _Let me know if you're mad. Or sad. Or happy. Or whatever. I love to hear it._**

 ** _~Wyn_**


	12. Chapter 12

_**AN:**_

 _ **Are you all ready for the grand finale? I wanted it to kind of feel like the end of movie so if it's a little cheesy ya'll are just gonna have to deal with it.**_

 _ **Thanks for sticking through with me and El. Neither of us are perfect but I hope we can live up to your expectations here.**_

 _ **Alright, deep breath, here we go!**_

* * *

El stared blankly ahead as the women on the stool in front of her rubbed her feet and painted polish on her toenails. Papa had sent her to the spa at the hotel she was staying in so she could get "pampered". Really he just wanted her looking her best for the gala tonight. He'd seemed unconcerned by the marks that covered her body, telling her he'd had a dress specially made for the event that would hide them.

He didn't apologize for allowing them to be slashed into her skin in the first place.

She hadn't even been back for twenty-four hours and he was putting her back to "work", showing her the faces of the multiple men he needed her to coerce tonight. Bitterness welled up inside of her but she tried to ignore, tried to go back to playing the part he wanted her to.

She had to keep Mike safe.

Just thinking of his name sent a wave of pain through her and she bit her lip to fight off the tears that tried to well up in her eyes. She couldn't let herself cry about it again, not after the esthetician had spent twenty minutes depuffing her eyes and masssaging her face. And because it wouldn't help. She'd made her choice, broken her own heart to try and let him be happy.

It was still raw and her heart felt sore, like an open wound, but she tried to ignore it, closing her eyes as the nail technician massaged her calves.

"You alright, hon?"

El opened her eyes looked down at the women who had a concerned expression on her face.

"I'm fine," El smiled her fake smile and blinked brightly. "Just… a little under the weather today."

"Do you want some water? Or… a box of tissues?"

"No I'm…" she faltered. "Am I that obvious?"

"I've had plenty of women cry in my chair before. Sometimes it's just a good, safe place to get it out. I don't mind, if you need to." The woman's name tag read "Beth" and El blinked, unsure if she should trust her.

But then the tears welled up again and there were tissues in her lap and she was blowing her nose as she cried. Beth patted her leg.

"There you go, hon, let it out. You have to let out the bad to let in the good," she soothed. "You're a pretty girl, I'm sure whatever is happening will get better. Is it about a man?"

El nodded as she wiped her eyes.

"Did he breakup with you?"

"No… _I_ left him. I didn't want to but," she stared at her hands sadly, "I had to let him go. So he could find someone better."

"Was he a nice boy?"

El smiled. "The nicest. He was… perfect. And he loved me."

"Did you love him?" Beth's blue eyes searched El's brown ones.

"I…" El felt like something was trying rip out of her chest. "I still do."

Beth finished up El's nails as she blew her nose again, getting up and letting the younger woman out of the chair. She wrapped her up in a hug.

"If you still love him, maybe it's not over yet," she told her.

El tensed but then relaxed into the hug, finding solace once again in the arms of a stranger. She didn't know how to reply so he stayed silent, closing her eyes and wishing that for once in her life, she would be able to do something with her life that didn't leave anyone hurting behind.

" _Thank you for letting me love you."_

* * *

Mike had never stolen a thing in his entire life, but he'd seen enough heist movies to feel like he was in one.

They'd headed back to his place first so Dustin could hop on Mike's computer and do some research. Brenner had mentioned a gala and they discovered it was the annual Indy Gala, filled with the most prominent people in the city, gathered together to make connections, catch up on each other's lives, and donate large amounts of cash to charity while eating expensive food. It was invitation only, and Max was on her phone, chatting with one of her clients as Dustin researched the events and who would be there and what would be worn.

Mike was making them coffee and trying to focus on his determination to get her back instead of the fact that she'd left in the first place. Max said something on the phone and then hung up.

"Yes!" She shouted, getting up and doing a victory dance. "Guess who just scored us an invitation to the Indy Gala tonight!"

"Did you really?" Dustin asked, looking up from the computer with a grin.

"You better fucking believe it," she was triumphant, "one of my clients' wife can't make it because her mother is sick or something and he said I could have the invitation if I threw in a few extra sessions towards the end of the month. He's going to leave it at the gym we meet at so if we head back to Indy soon, I can pick it up."

"Mike," Dustin piped up, staring at the screen, "It's like red carpet themed. What have you got that's fancy?"

"Uhh… I have a tux but—"

"I've seen that thing. It's not up to par. Anything else?"

Mike frowned.

"I'm a teacher, Dustin. Not a… model."

"You're tall enough to be one and you've got the jawline," Max had sat next to him and reached over, tugging at his hair playfully. "Why not drop teaching and just model full-time, pretty-boy?" She teased.

Mike noticed Dustin looked rather stricken and quickly pulled Max's hand out of his hair, rolling his eyes.

"Switching careers isn't really my top priority right now. I don't suppose any of your clients have my exact measurements and can lend me a tux?"

"What about Adam? You guys are the same height," Dustin butted in.

It was their best bet, so they headed to over to Will's place. The gala started at seven and it was already four, so they needed to head into Indy soon, but if they could get Mike an outfit without having to pay for it, that would help.

Will answered the door, looking surprised.

"Oh, hey guys, I didn't know Dustin was in town—"

"No time for pleasantries, Will. We're on a mission. Is your husband home?" Dustin interrupted him.

"Adam? Yeah, he's in the kitchen starting dinner. Why? What's going on?" He gave Max a curious look, being polite as usual. "Um, hi, I'm Will by the way."

"Hi! I'm Max. I'm Dustin's new roommate and Mike's not-girlfriend's old roommate and we really need a red carpet tuxedo," she blurted, looking anxiously behind them. Will looked understandably confused.

Mike sighed. "We'll explain if you let us in, okay?"

He did and the newlyweds (Will and Adam) listened to the story, a bit dazed by the information and story they told. Adam was the same height as Mike, but considerably more buff, an entrepreneur Will had met at NYU. They were a good couple and soon nodded in agreement, leading him back to their bedroom and opening the closet.

"I've only got the one that's really… snazzy, like you need," Adam told him as he pulled out a retro, ivory-colored suit jacket with a black collar and matching bowtie. "It's kind of '50s doo wop but you'll blend in. I went to that gala once as an intern and it's less of a fashion show then you think."

"Hey, thanks, man. I really appreciate it," Mike said as he tried it on.

It was a little loose through the chest and arms, but the sleeves were long enough and they decided it would have to do. The two men wished them the best and then they were back on the road to Indianapolis, the atmosphere was tense and Max and Dustin tried to joke around to lighten things up. It started as Dustin berating for her having not seen a single X-Men movie but quickly turned into her destroying him for his unhealthy habits. Mike stayed quiet for the most part, dwelling on what the hell he was going to say when he saw El again.

He had to find out if she really didn't want him or if she was lying to try and keep him safe from Brenner. There was no certainty that she would come back, that he wouldn't get arrested by dirty cops for even showing up. But nothing mattered anymore, not as much as she did.

The nerves set in as he realized what he was going to try and do. He had no idea what to expect, he was nerdy teacher from the Midwest who had no clue what he was getting himself into at a _gala_.

Biting his lip, he tried not to worry.

* * *

El stared at herself in the mirror in the room of her hotel and had to admit that she did in fact look stunning.

The dress Papa had picked was blood red, with a sweeping skirt that billowed around her, a mix of smooth satin and sheer fabric that covered her bruises and cuts but showed every curve and contour of her body. The corset and lingerie she wore underneath matched, and he'd given her long black gloves that went almost went up to her armpits to cover the marks there, thigh-high black boots to match.

She looked provocative, like walking sex, and she hated it. She hated what she was in this dress, who she was forcing herself to be. Before it had been low-burn of hate that she'd swallowed down and ignored, but now it was a fire that consumed her.

The door opened and Papa came in, holding a red rose in his hand and crossing the room to where she was.

"Jane," he crooned, "you look absolutely breathtaking."

He tried to hand her the rose but she flinched away and he sighed, breaking off the stem and then tucking it into her honey brown waves, behind her ear. His hand lingered, tracing her chin with his fingers and she jerked her face away, frowning. He didn't get to touch her.

"Now, now. None of that tonight, right? You have several my friends who are eager to see you, I can't have you giving them attitude… unless that's what they ordered," he said smugly.

The hatred flared up again but was quickly replaced with sorrow. This is what she had to be now, there wasn't any other option. Trying to keep the tears from filling her eyes she nodded, forcing a smile and reaching for the arm he was offering her.

"Of course, Papa."

* * *

It took them a solid half hour to find parking. Max kept circling until they got a spot that was only a little ways down the block, so they could make a quick escape. She had insisted on being the getaway driver, citing that she knew the city better than Dustin anyways.

The gala was in full swing, people arriving in fancy cars and walking into the grand hotel lobby, dressed up in evening gowns and tuxedos. Mike had almost strained his eyes trying to spot El but he figured she was probably already inside. He'd been nervous before, but now he was pretty sure he was about to have heart attack.

"—nab her, get her in the car, and then we blast the fuck off back to Hawkins. Mike, are you listening?"

Dustin's voice startled him back out and he gulped, tugging at the bowtie around his neck. He looked at his friend and nodded.

"Yeah, I heard you. I'm… I mean that's the plan," he agreed, trying not to let on just how shaky he was.

"You're going to be fine, Mike," Max's voice was unusually sympathetic. "If she really said, uh, what you said she said… you have good shot."

"Just pretend like you're James Bond," Dustin added. "Suave and sophisticated."

"Um, sure."

There wasn't any point in waiting around and they gave him some final encouragement as he got out of the car and tried to casually walk down the sidewalk. The attendant gave him a sidelong look but nodded at the invitation and allowed him to pass through. Mike sped up, heading through the doors and down to the massive ballroom filled with glittering chandeliers and beautiful, well-dressed people. Someone offered him a glass of champagne and he took it, trying to blend in as he looked around the room.

He had no idea what she was wearing. Would he even recognize her? Behind him he heard someone mention a familiar name.

"—Brenner's assistant. She looks like a prostitute. I don't why he allowed her to dress like that, honestly. As if a red dress isn't slutty enough," some older woman was saying.

"I wore a red dress last year, Lorraine—"

He zoned out again, eyes scanning for red fabric as he dodged through the throngs of people. There were a few other people in red but he still hadn't seen—

His eyes saw the skirt first, trailing upwards to the familiar face he loved. Only she didn't look like herself, all sharp lines and lips the color of blood, curled into a frown. The woman had been right, she looked absolutely provocative, and he felt his blood boil at the sight of the stares the hungry men around her were giving her body. One of them was talking to her, looking disappointed as she shook her head, making the rose in her hair bob. She started to walk away from the group of men and Mike finally managed to make himself move.

He sped through the crowd, stepping on someone's foot, knocking someone else's drink from their hands, not even noticing. His heart was pounding, his palms were sweaty and he almost swore as he ran into a block of people.

She was walking, shoulders down, head bowed, and he watched as a tall man with snowy white hair grabbed her arm, stopping her short. His face curled into a snarl and he saw fear fill his face. Mike's instinct kicked in and he shoved against the people in his way, nearly toppling someone over as he pushed through and ran towards her.

"EL!"

* * *

She was trying, she really was. But she kept zoning out, only coming back when the men she was talking to would say her name or touch her arm. The drink in her hand was untouched and she knew the smile she wore was noticeably fake.

Usually she could swallow the revulsion, pretend like everything was amazing, play the part. But tonight she couldn't. Before, she'd been tired of pretending that she was El—that she was what Mike wanted her to be. But now… now she was tired of pretending to be _Jane_.

The realization washed over her. She'd thought she'd be same when she came back, fall back into the same routine, the same habits, the same lifestyle. But she couldn't. Her weekend with Mike had changed her and she hadn't even noticed.

She was El now. _His_ El.

"Jane," one of the men leaned in, his rancid breath hot in her ear. "I do believe Dr. Brenner mentioned you would be assisting us this evening. Would it be possible to get a head start?"

His eyes roamed down her body, and he licked his lips. Nausea bubbled up from her stomach and she clutched her chest, feeling like she was actually going to vomit.

She couldn't do it. She didn't want to and now she couldn't even pretend like she wanted to.

"I-I'm sorry, but I c-can't…" she swallowed and backed away, shaking her head, eyes wide. "I can't help you. I'm s-sorry."

Turning from them, she walked away, her dress billowing behind her. She exhaled, feeling a sudden sense of relief wash over her. She'd said no… she had _never_ said no. But she couldn't do it. Every time she closed her eyes… she saw Mike. She saw his face, mouth curved into a smile as he leaned down to kiss her, his freckles like constellations, his eyes soft and warm.

Her heart ached and she realized she _missed_ him.

A hand snagged her arm, digging into the bruises there with rough fingers and she yelped in pain, whipping around to face the offender. It was Papa, his face twisted with anger, and she felt her heart leap into her throat. The relief she felt evaporated, replaced by terror and she opened her mouth to try and explain but he didn't let her.

"Do not tell me you turned them down, Jane," he said through clenched teeth, squeezing her arm so tightly her eyes started to water. "You do _not_ get to make that decision."

"I—"

She didn't know what to say, how to explain, but she didn't get the chance as she heard a shout behind her. A familiar voice, a voice she would recognize, saying her _name_.

"EL!"

She turned, thinking she must be crazy, that she was imagining things. But there he was, charging across the floor in a baggy, white suit, face worried, hand outstretched. Their eyes locked and she felt every muscle in her body freeze as her mouth moved.

"Mike?"

He was running across the ballroom and then he was skidding to a stop in front of her. She looked back at Papa, then back to Mike and felt stark terror. What was he _doing_ here?! He had been safe in Hawkins, where Papa couldn't reach, but here he was one stray bullet away from mysteriously disappearing and she put her hands out to stop him. He stopped but look at her, face twisted with hurt and frustration.

"Mike, what are you _doing_ here?" she gasped.

"I… what are _you_ doing here?" he shot back. "Why did you run away? I thought—"

Papa's voice startled them both.

"She left you because you're meaningless, Michael. You were just another man she let into her bed. Did you really think you were _special_?" He sneered, reaching for El and pulling her away again.

"God, would you _shut up_?" Mike seethed. "I didn't fucking _ask_ you, you pompous piece of shit!"

"Mike," El started but he didn't let her finish.

"El, _please,_ if it was nothing, if I'm nothing… I'll accept that. I'll leave right now. But you have to look me in the eye, right now, and tell me you were lying." He was shaking and sweating but he didn't even notice, eyes on her. "Tell me you don't love me. Tell me I'm nothing. Tell me you don't _want me_."

His voice cracked and she felt her heart shatter all over again. The way he was looking at her, like she was all of the oxygen in the room, his only chance for survival… it took her breath away.

"Go on, Jane," Papa had that smugness in his voice again. "Tell him the truth."

The people around them were watching curiously, wondering what was going on but too immersed in their own lives to really pay attention.

El tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. She knew what she needed to say, what would make him leave and keep him safe… but her heart was reaching for him, trying to rip it's way out of the gaudy red dress and run back to his arms.. The words wouldn't leave her mouth as hard as she tried and the longer she looked at his distraught, freckled face, the more she realized she couldn't say it. She couldn't break his heart again—break her own heart again.

For once in her life she was listening to her heart and what it was saying, and it was telling her to run to him… so she did, wrenching her arm from Papa's grip, her heels clicking on the floor as she took three steps and _threw_ herself into Mike's arms.

He caught her, pulling her to him and cupping her face and _kissing_ her and she was wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close as tears filled her eyes. He'd found her. She'd utterly shattered him, told him to forget her, and he'd still come. Her heart swelled, something filling her so completely before bubbling over and the tears were pouring from her eyes as she clung to him.

They pulled apart and she realized he was crying too, reaching up to wipe the tears from his eye with her thumbs, not wanting to see him cry. She was done making him cry for her.

"I'm sorry, Mike, I'm so sorry I—"

"El, you don't have to explain, I know, you didn't mean—"

" _Mike_ ," she was holding her face in his hands, staring up at him, "I love you, Mike. I'm sorry I left but I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you—"

He silenced her with another kiss and she smiled against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck and just letting him hold her, feeling his heart beating against hers. Nothing could be more perfect than this moment.

"Jane."

She didn't want to turn and look but she did, knowing that he wasn't a problem that would just go away. Brenner's face was red and angry and she blinked, realizing how dangerous the situation was now that she had basically just told him to fuck off.

"What… this is _not_ something—If you don't step away from him I will _ruin_ you," he snarled and the people around them started looking, the curiosity too much to bear.

She let Mike go, turning and looking at him full for the first time, trying to understand how she'd put up with the man in front of her who had masqueraded as her father. For so long she'd craved his approval and love, but as she looked at him now she suddenly felt… pity. What kind of man denies love to a small child and forces her into prostitution as an adult? What has to happen to a person to make them that cold and uncaring?

Whatever it was… she was done letting it control her.

Brenner suddenly charged them, hands reaching for her and she shrunk back but didn't have a chance to say anything as Mike stepped out in front of her hands balled up, body tense with anger. His fist coiled back and then struck the older man square in the nose with a sickening _crunch_. Brenner staggered back, and there was a small gasp from the crowd around them. El stepped forward, staring her father in the eyes.

"No more, Papa. I'm done. And if you try to hurt him… to hurt us I'll—I'll tell them, everyone, what you made me do," she threatened, holding her head high. Her reputation meant nothing and she was more than willing to let the world know what she had been if it meant he would go down too.

She looked around the crowd that was gathering and staring athem, meeting the eyes of the men she knew from her bedroom. Some were holding their wives or girlfriends and she stared into their souls as she looked around, letting them know she saw them and knew who they were.

"Aren't you all tired of this?" she asked, watching as they looked down ashamedly, unable to meet her eyes. "Aren't you tired of pretending that you're something you're not?"

Some of the men started to turn away, walking away from the scene and Brenner was still frozen, disbelief etched on his blood-covered face. She turned away from him, not even bothering to say goodbye, and looked back at Mike, was still holding his fist and wincing.

"Fuck I didn't think that would hurt so bad…" he muttered and she laughed.

"Here," she took his hand in hers and pressed gentle kisses along his knuckles.

He pulled her lips back to his face and she let herself get lost in him, his hands on her waist, her fingers in his hair. When he pulled back she felt dizzy, breathless from the passion that burned between them.

"What do we do now?" she whispered, looking up into his eyes.

He took her hand, pulling her towards the exit, watching her with dancing eyes, full of love. She followed without hesitation, unsure of where he was going but knowing she would follow him anywhere. He smiled that smile she loved so much and started to speed up as they moved through the crowds, ignoring the stares, only having eyes for each other.

"Now we run away from here," he was grinning as reached for her, pulling her into his arms easily and picking her up so he was carrying her bridal style, her long red dress billowing over his shoulder like a cape.

"Is that okay?" he asked, looking down at her.

She snuggled into his chest, wrapping her arms around her neck, feeling safe and so full of love she was sure her chest would burst open and tiny heart-shaped pieces of paper would flutter out around them. Biting her lip she nodded, reaching up to run her hand over the stars on his face, knowing that while everything might not be perfect yet, it didn't matter now that he was here.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek she nuzzled the side of his face with her nose, breathing her answer into his ear as he ran them out the front doors of the hotel and down the sidewalk.

"It's okay as long as I'm with you."

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _This isn't the end because I'm going to write a lil epilogue that takes place two years later. I haven't written it yet cause like... fuck I'm tired haha. But keep your eye out for it tomorrow because I'm excited to write it and give you guys a peek of the future. ;)_**

 ** _Review! Please! Let me know if this was satisfactory or if you absolutely hate it. I accept the love and the hate, but I promised a happy ending and you'll get it._**

 ** _Thanks for the compliments too, I'm so glad you like what I write._**

 ** _~Wyn_**


	13. Epilogue: Two Years Later

**_AN:_**

 ** _So here we are at the end. Thanks for riding along with me, I hope you enjoyed it despite the emotional tRAUMA I put you all through. I really love these two kiddos with all my heart and I always want the best for them in the end._**

 ** _Hope you guys don't mind one more surprise. ;)_**

* * *

Mike tugged at his white dress-shirt, trying to make sure the sleeves were rolled up high enough, and then picked at some lint on his steel-grey vest. He felt strangely anxious, like he might do something wrong and sighed again, turning away from the mirror. It wouldn't help to stare, it wouldn't make the time pass any more quickly.

There was a knock at the door and he looked over, wondering why Dustin was knocking when it was literally the Men's room for changing. His friends had left him to go and check on if things were running according to plan, figuring Mike might want a minute to process what was happening.

"Come in?" he asked, unsure.

Max's bright red hair spilled in as she cracked the door, only sticking her head in.

"Mike, she wants to see you. Like now," she said.

"Now? But we're starting in like twenty minutes…" he blinked.

"That's what I told her! But she keeps saying she wants to talk to you and honestly at this point I think it would be a good idea. She's nervous. Like real bad."

Mike was immediately worried, walking towards the door.

"Well, okay, um, I'll just cover my eyes or something," he said, putting his hands over his eyes and clearing his throat. "You can let her in."

"Alright, cool."

The door shut again and he felt his heart rate rising. He'd already been nervous, but finding out that _she_ was nervous somehow made it worse. Keeping his eyes completely covered, he jiggled his leg up and down, inhaling sharply at the sound of the door opening.

"Mike?" Her voice still made him smile.

There was the sound of fabric swishing across the floor and then he felt small hands on his forearms. He could smell her lilac perfume, her skin soft on his.

"Why are you covering your eyes?"

"It's… bad luck to see you before, or something—"

"That's stupid," she was tugging his hands away, "I want to see your face. Please?"

He could never refuse her and he sighed, pulling his hands away and opening his eyes, blinking to adjust back to the sunlight that filled the room. She came into focus and he felt the air leave his lungs as he stared down at his bride.

Her dress was a satin slip that skimmed her body and fell to the ground, trailing out behind her, with thin pearly straps that accentuated her collarbones and china doll features. Her skin glowed, like it had been rubbed with fairy dust, and her hair, which had grown out, fell down her back in honey-brown waves. A simple crown of greenery interspersed with baby's breath and blush-pink tea roses rested on her head in place of veil and her lips and cheeks were a soft pink hue.

"Wow," he breathed, his eyes wide. "You look… wow."

Despite the worry that furrowed her brow, she found herself smiling softly at his reaction, reaching for his hands and holding them in her own.

"Thanks, Mike," her eye were genuine but there was tinge of worry behind them.

"You're stunning, El. Breathtaking. Perfection," he pulled her close to him, arms around her waist, looking down at her with a face-breaking smile. "Are you sure you want to marry me? I'm kind of a tall, awkward dork."

Her lips curled up into a smile and she laughed then, forgetting the worry.

"Are you backing out on me now, Mike Wheeler? After proposing to me every day for the past two years?" Her eyes were dancing.

"It wasn't _every day_ …"

"Okay, every month."

"It wasn't—well it kind of was—" he looked sheepish, "I didn't start asking you until last year, okay? I'm not that crazy…"

"It's fine, Mike." She was smiling playfully. "I said yes eventually, didn't I?"

He leaned down and kissed her temple.

"Yes you did," he breathed her in for a second before pulling back. "So what were you worried about? Max said you were nervous and the wedding starts in like…" he glanced at the clock. "Seventeen minutes."

She pulled back a bit, biting her lip and he recognized the signs. There was something she was afraid of telling him and he sighed, grabbing her and leading her over to the cushioned bench that sat against the wall, sitting down and pulling her into his lap, making sure to not wrinkle her dress.

"What is it, El? You know you don't have to be afraid. Whatever it is… we'll figure it out," he gave her another gentle kiss and felt her relax against him.

"Mike, um, do you remember like, a few months ago when I got that skin thing and I had to take some anti-fungal med?"

She'd gotten a pretty common skin infection after forgetting her flip flops at home on a trip to the gym and taking a shower on the moldy floor with bare feet. Mike hadn't really thought about it, and he wondered why that was making her worried now. That had been almost two months ago.

"Um, yeah… why, did it come it back?"

"No," she snorted a laugh but then sobered, "that's not… no. Um, it's… a little more, um—"

"El," he was laughing, "What is it?"

"I think I'm pregnant," she blurted out.

The air left the room and Mike's eyes widened. El was biting her lip, trembling slightly and suddenly the air came back and he gasped.

"Wha— _What?!"_

Tears filled her eyes.

"I'm s-sorry the meds I took messed with my birth control and we—"

"Woah, wait, stop," he sat up a bit, scoot her out of his lap so he could look her in the eyes. "Why are you sorry? Did you—You don't think I'm _mad,_ do you?"

She blinked her wide, wet eyes at him. "You're not?"

He stood up and pulled her up too, cupping her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss the tears from her eyes.

"How could I be mad? You just told me… we're going to have a _baby?"_

He was still in a state of shock, but the worry melted from her face and he felt her slump a bit, clearly relieved.

"I… I don't know for sure. But I realized like yesterday that my period hasn't reared it's ugly head lately and—"

"Can we get a test? Can we find out now?"

He was bouncing like a puppy and she blinked before laughing.

"Mike, we're supposed to get married. In like ten minutes…"

"There's a drugstore on the corner," he was beaming and staring at her, "did you tell Max? Can she run and buy us a test? They can wait a bit, right?"

"Well—If you really want… she doesn't know but we could tell her really quick, hang on."

They called in El's bridesmaid who shrieked at the news and immediately grabbed her wallet and _sprinted_ from the building, reappearing no less than five minutes later, rather disheveled and sweaty. Sometimes having someone who could run a four minute mile came in handy.

"Tell me the _second_ you know what it says, okay? I'll go get the boys and we'll tell everyone you're throwing up or something and we're gonna start a little late," she panted, her fancy wedding hair kind of ruined. She didn't seem to notice or car.

She left them alone and they quickly opened the little pink box, and El disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. Mike couldn't stop pacing outside, trying not to be weird, but definitely anxious. No… not anxious, excited. Anxiously excited. He sat down on the bench again and exhaled heavily, trying to calm his racing heart.

El, his Ell… pregnant? With a _baby?_

The last two years hadn't been perfect, but they'd been blissfully content nonetheless, creating a cozy life in Hawkins together. After they'd run from the gala everything had blurred. She and Max had been evicted from their skyline apartment and Dustin had helped them pack up and move their stuff, since Mike was all but banned from Indianapolis by that point. El had moved in with him, and eventually found a job, assisting Flo at the police station and under Chief Hopper's watchful gaze. Brenner had backed off after her threat to expose him and after the first year they stopped worrying about him. They'd made enough to rent out a small house and moved a few months later.

She still had bad nights, and eventually started seeing a therapist to deal with the trauma of her past. Mike had come with her at first, holding her hand while she let pain spill out again and making sure she was okay. Now she went by herself, once a week, and always came back her vibrant, playful self. His love never wavered and though she still had her fears and doubts, he always silenced them.

They were happy. And they were going to have a baby?

El came out of the bathroom and Mike jumped, almost tripping, eyes eager.

"So? Is it… positive?"

She blinked. "I don't know yet, it has to sit for fifteen minutes first. It took me like five minutes to pee, sorry. I think I'm dehydrated."

"Oh," he dimmed a bit, but pulled her to him to show he wasn't too disappointed. "Well… what do you want to do while we wait?"

They looked around the quiet room, where his groomsmen's belongings were scattered on counters and chairs. Outside the hallway led down to the sanctuary, where his family and their friends were waiting. It was mostly Mike's relatives friends, since El didn't have too many people in her life other than Max. But she'd insisted on sending an invitation to some women named Beth and a few other workers at the hotels she used to stay in.

El's hand trailed up his chest, resting on the back of his neck as she ran her fingers through his hair, her eyebrow raising. He recognized the look and smirked, shaking his head.

"Aren't we supposed to save that for the honeymoon?" he asked.

"That's not what you said two days ago," she countered.

They were giggling, like teenagers, and he ran over and locked the door before turning back around and picking her up by the waist and carrying her across the room, laying her down on the bench. She rolled over, sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders and he reached for the zipper, tugging it down carefully.

He had a flashback, to their first night together when she'd turned her back to him and he'd unzipped her for the first time. She looked over and gave him the same smirk and he felt the same thrill he'd felt back then shiver through him.

She peeled the dress off carefully, getting up half-naked and carefully draping it over a chair. He did the same with his vest but didn't get the chance to unbutton his pants as she turned and pounced, grinning devilishly. He yelped as she pulled them down his legs and grabbed his dick in her hand, looking smug at how hard he was already.

"El," he yelped.

She gave him another grin before taking him into her mouth, expertly bobbing her head and making him groan. _Fuck_ she was good at this. Her tongue swirled around him as she moved and he panted, trying not crush the flower crown in her hair. She pulled off of him after a minute and took him by the hands, pulling him back to the cushy bench and letting herself fall onto it.

He came down on top of her, his hand reaching around to unhook her white, strapless bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her panties were a soft periwinkle color and he laughed as he tugged them down her legs.

"Something blue?" he asked.

"The dress is technically borrowed, the shoes are new, and your mom gave me the pearl earrings… vintage," she explained. "Your mom is way too nice to me—ah!"

He _definitely_ did not want to talk about his mother, interrupting her with a finger on her clit and a nibble on her collarbone. Her hips lifted up to meet his hand and let the finger slide in, pumping in out a few times as she squirmed. He added another, curling them and rubbing up against her inside, watching as her eyebrows went up.

"Mike!" she said through clenched teeth.

Now he was grinning, but he stopped teasing her, pulling his fingers out and then grabbing her legs throwing them over his shoulder so her hips were tilted up and he had easy access. He pushed in and they both let out matching moans as her tight heat surrounded him, never tiring of the feeling of being joined.

"We can't take too long," she panted as he kissed her sternum. "We have to get married, remember?"

"Are you telling me to hurry it up, Mrs. Wheeler?" he grinned cheekily and she stuck out her tongue.

"We're not officially—oh! Oh, _fuck_."

He didn't let her keep talking, heeding her advice instead and thrusting his hips roughly into her before pulling back slowly and then doing it again, watching as her chest heaved. He was starting to sweat under dress shirt, but her symphony of moans kept him from caring. She rested one hand on his cheek as he pounded into her, staring up into his eyes with a fierce, unspoken love.

By now he knew her body, every freckle and scar, what made her gasp and moan. It was the thing he worshipped willingly, treating it with the reverence it deserved while still giving her the greatest possible pleasure. And now she would be his wife, his lover for eternity, his best friend until the end of time.

He moved more quickly, angling the way he knew she liked and watching her eyes widen and her brows furrow until she was gasping, back arching against him, mouth gaping open as her climax flooded through her.

"Mike!"

She always said his name, every time, calling for him as he moved within her and sent her over the edge. He let himself get sloppy and finished with a grunt, feeling her flutter around him as he collapsed onto her, breathing in her florally scent as he gasped and tried to catch his breath. Pushing up onto his elbows he looked down at her. Her face was flushed, lips pink and swollen, and her pretty waves were tangled around her head in a honey-brown halo. She looked ethereal.

"You're an actual angel," he said, eyes wide.

She burst into laughter, sitting up and making him get off of her. He pouted.

"What? You are. Why is that funny?"

"It's just… I have never heard that one before. And you looked so… surprised," she gave him an apologetic kiss. "I'll accept the compliment if you help me get my dress back on."

"Deal!"

They redressed, trying to smooth out the wrinkles and tame the wild hair. It was such a hassle they almost forgot the—

"Oh!" El turned and ran to the bathroom, disappearing inside.

When she came back out she was holding the pregnancy test in her hand, face utterly blank.

"What? What's it say?" he asked, feeling worried.

"It's… it says…" she looked him the eye. "I'm pregnant, Mike."

The world shifted beneath his feet and then he was holding her, picking her up by the waist and spinning her in circles. She was looking down at him and a slow smile crept across her face as she saw the sheer joy radiating from him. He'd always said he wanted to be a dad, but they hadn't discussed kids yet, figuring getting married first was a good place to start.

Mike finally set her down and then staggered, dizzy. He didn't let her go, looking down at her with those warms eyes she'd fallen in love with from the beginning.

"El… I didn't think it was possible to love you even _more_ but now I…" there were tears of joy leaking from the corners of his eyes and she smiled.

"You're sure you're… ready for a baby?" she asked.

" _Our_ baby, El."

Then he saw it, the shadow of doubt in her eyes, the fear there. Of course she was afraid, growing up without a mother and monster for a father… what chance did she have of being a good mother for this child?

He pulled her to him and she tucked her face into his chest, holding onto him like she was drowning and he was the only lifeline.

"Mike, I'm scared. What if… what if I make it hate me o-or I'm a terrible mom and—"

"Hey, now. Back up. You're letting your fear take over," he used the rhetoric the therapist had taught him, "remember that? Worrying now won't help. And besides…" he cupped her face in his hands. "If you love him or her anywhere near as much as you love me… there's no way you'll be a terrible mom."

She sniffed. "Will… will you help me?"

He almost scoffed.

"Of _course_. I love you, El." He nuzzled his face into her hair. "You're my everything."

Her body slumped against his as she clung to him.

"I love you, Mike," she breathed against him. "I love you."

They stood there in their wedding clothes with a new life pressed them between in her belly, feeling the glow of love fill the room. After so much pain and struggle, they'd still managed to make it here. A random encounter in a bar turning into the meeting of soulmates, destined for the greatest possible human love. An impossibility made possible. Mike didn't question it, simply thanked the universe and it's infinite forces for allowing him to find her.

He kissed the top of her head. "Hey, so… do you want to get married?"

"Hmmm… I think we've made them wait long enough," her playfulness was back and his heart swelled.

"I'd make them wait a thousand years if it meant I could stand here and look at you," his hand drifted down and pressed against her belly. "Both of you."

They kissed again, breaking every wedding rule for the thousandth time.

"How about we you do that afterwards? Before your mom knocks on the door and tells us to get moving?"

He shuddered at that thought. "Good point."

They walked towards the door and as Mike put his hand on the knob, she paused, pulling him back and wrapping her arms around him, holding him tightly and taking one more breath, making sure he was real for the zillionth time. He squeezed her back, knowing she was just checking to make sure she wasn't dreaming. A bizarre but endearing habit.

"Okay, now I'm ready," she said, pulling back. "I love you Mike."

Staring down into her eyes, he saw the future. His wife, the mother of his child, his soulmate. If hearts could overflow, his was, and he smiled once again.

"I love you too, El."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **For those asking, I do have one more one-shot planned, that was a request. I do take requests, they often inspire me and that's what gets me going. Maybe someday I'll write something that isn't smutty haha.**_

 _ **So please, leave a review if you're happy. If you have a request, or an idea, I'll listen. My PMs are also open and I love talking to people so feel free to shoot me something there too.**_

 ** _School starts Monday for me and after that I won't have as much time to write, so this was kind of me desperately trying to finish this story before then. Glad I made the deadline._**

 ** _And finally, a giant THANK YOU to every single on of you who has left me a nice review or a sweet compliment. I love you all._**

 ** _Special shout out to Jenna for annoying me so much and making me post chapters even when I was lazy. You're the best._**

 ** _~Wyn_**


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